


Give

by ohwhatamessiam28



Series: Anyone Else: Bucky Barnes & Reader [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Fluff, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes in Bucharest, F/M, Flashbacks, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV First Person, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Infinity War, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Sam Wilson, Reader-Insert, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, best friend sam wilson, bucky is trying to cope after the winter soldier programming fails, i over describe food preparation in everything i've ever written, i'm sorry that this is first person, natasha is a badass as usual, protective wanda maximoff eventually, sorry i'm also figuring out how to work this site at the same time as i'm posting this, this story is flashback central, tumblr saw it first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 01:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12924093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohwhatamessiam28/pseuds/ohwhatamessiam28
Summary: Bucky and (Y/N) had an amazing yet brief relationship in Bucharest before all hell broke loose. Two years later they reconnect in a bar in Brooklyn, but things have changed and neither are the same people they were before. Will their relationship survive or is a break up inevitable?





	1. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of flashbacks to Bucharest. You move into an apartment and Bucky is your upstairs neighbor.

Playlist for entire fic:

I sat alone in a bar in Brooklyn, waiting to break up with Bucky Barnes. It was the same spot I’d met with Steve Rogers at a year ago when he checked in on me. More than two years had passed since I’d last seen Bucky. Since he’d last kissed me in the doorway of my apartment in Bucharest. Since he’d walked away from me for the last time.

That day was supposed to be goodbye, but to both of our surprises he’d survived the manhunt for him after he was framed with bombing the UN conference in Vienna. Steve had done what he could to protect him, reversing the roles of their childhood friendship and keeping Bucky alive and hidden. Of course I couldn’t know where Bucky was, and what mental or physical state he was in, only that he was alive. Steve had told me he was safe and I believed him. Sam Wilson had alluded to Bucky being unable to hurt anyone, which had caused me to feel a little more apprehensive about his current state.

Steve had set the meeting up, calling me a week ago and telling me that Bucky was ready to see me. Two months before, I’d woken in the middle of the night to a text from him saying, “he’s awake.” I’d been aching to see him for longer than felt humanly possible, but all my waiting strengthened my decision. I couldn’t keep waiting around for him. As much as I loved him and every fiber of my being wanted to be with him, being apart for two years without hearing his voice, without even a word from him, made me wonder what I actually meant to him.

Did he even think about me over the last two years? Were Steve and Sam just pitying me and making sure some Hydra crony couldn’t find me and try to get answers out of me? I’d lived the last two years of my life trying to save my love for Bucky, treating myself like a woman whose man was caught in a war, and would return when it was done. Did Bucky even still think we were together? Was there even a relationship leftover for me to be breaking up?

I’d spent the last two years thinking about him. Waking up in the middle of the night wanting to be with him. Just wanting to even hear his voice. But I got nothing, so I busied myself. Getting a new job, volunteering at an animal shelter, spending more time with my friends, but nothing filled the hole in my heart. And I’d faltered, spent days angry at him followed by weeks when I was sad and desperately needed human contact. But no one could fill his space. And so I continued to wait.

My knees bounced nervously underneath the bar’s counter, an almost empty whiskey already sitting on a cocktail napkin in front of me. This bar was the perfect place to meet because it was quiet enough to talk but just busy enough to disappear from without attracting attention if need be. The bartender with a full beard and sparkling green eyes paused in front of me, noticing how tightly I was wringing my hands together. “Everything okay?” he asked, leaning against the wooden counter.

“Just nervous,” I tried to smile but it was strained. “I’ll take another.” He nodded at me, grabbing another glass, dropping a couple ice cubes in it, and pouring more whiskey for me. I threw back the remaining contents of my current glass and left it on the counter.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” his eyes flashing a worried look my way. I nodded at him and tried to smirk. After another moment of hesitation, he continued onto the other customers and I was left alone with my thoughts again.

I took one more gulp of the liquor, feeling it burn its way down my throat in a cruel and slow way. Torturing my esophagus, the same way the waiting game of the last two years was torturing me. Just as I placed my glass back on the counter, I heard the front door swing open.

His eyes met mine before his feet even entered the building, and his smolder made me want to melt in my seat. Instead I straightened my back in my stool and took in every detail of him. He looked, different. His hair was gone, cut shorter than I’d ever seen it in person and it reminded me of the photos I’d seen of him from the 40s. He was clean shaven, his cheekbones and jawline on full display, and he’d slimmed down a little. He was still massive looking, but leaner than when I’d last held him, and maybe his clothing had something to do with that. He was wearing a pair of tight fitting black jeans, a pair of combat boots, a white t-shirt, a black leather jacket, and his gloves. There wasn’t a layer besides his jacket in sight.

He ran his fingers through his hair as he got closer to me and a smile stretched across his lips. Everything I’d planned flew out the window. It was as if my breath had been kicked out of me for two years and suddenly I could inhale. I slid down from my bar stool on shaky knees and allowed myself to be pulled into a hug. The feel of his hands on me, his chest against mine, the fresh and woodsy scent of his after shave, the twinkle in his eyes, his wicked smirk, and his husky “hello” threw me into a sensory overload. Suddenly I was reliving every milestone and moment of ours together in Bucharest.

* * *

The first time I laid eyes on Bucky Barnes was in the stairwell of our apartment building in Bucharest. It was the day I moved into the studio directly below his.

Bucharest was the 6th place I’d stayed in 4 months, and the city I was staying in the longest. My post-graduate school travel excursion could last for only so long before I had to start paying off my student loans, Bucharest was the most affordable city I’d be in, and therefore I was able to sub-rent an apartment for an entire month compared to a couple weeks in a dingy hostel. I knew I wasn’t moving into a palace, but just walking up the stairs, seeing all the cracked plaster and cement of the pinkish walls told me that living here was going to be interesting if nothing else.

The apartments sat close together and the walls were thin. I’d bothered to buy a couple sets of cheap dishes, silverware, pots and pans, and a set of bed sheets. Nothing I would mind leaving behind or throwing out, but cooking for myself was much more affordable than eating at a food stand or cafe everyday. I’d climbed the 12 floors worth of stairs with a box and bag balanced on my left arm, and dragging my luggage and backpack with my right.

I saw his baseball capped head bob down the flight of stairs above me and the way he darted down them quietly and quickly made me think he would push right past me. I leaned my suitcase on the corner of the wall and fished my keys out of my pocket. As I twisted the key into the deadbolt I felt his presence directly behind me, large and powerful but also timid. I rushed to yank the door open and jam my foot into the frame. As I swung the thin door open I heard my luggage start to slide down the wall. I whipped around to try to catch it while also balancing the rest of my things but that was no easy feat.

Bucky grabbed the handle before it hit the ground and placed it in my hand, his gloved fingers gently brushing mine. I slid my bags onto the floor of the apartment and then carefully put down the box of breakables. Pivoting on my heel I looked for him in the hallway but he was already gone. I leaned onto the red metal railing and searched for him on the staircase. His dark, broad figure was already 4 floors below me, but I still shouted thanks in broken Romanian, “M-mulțumesc!” He didn’t slow down or respond to my gratitude, but I watched him take the remaining flights until he exited the building, a small spark stirring in my gut.

* * *

The second time I laid eyes on Bucky Barnes was on a busy street lined with vendor stalls, paper kiosks, and to my luck, a few benches. It was only a couple blocks over from the apartment building, and I’d been reading and people watching there when the weather was pleasant. Staying inside the tiny studio with cracked walls, a half-fallen apart kitchen, and stained and slightly smelly furniture only seemed to dampen my mood. Exploring the city and absorbing the culture through watching the people and their interactions with one another was my escape.

It hadn’t even been a week since I’d seen Bucky, but the thrill that ran up my spine when I caught his form in front of a produce stand made me straighten in my seat. It wasn’t cool enough for him to need a jacket over a long sleeve t-shirt, yet he was bundled tightly. Unlike the last time I’d seen him though, he had no baseball cap on. His dark brown hair was tucked behind his ears and looked like it could use a good wash, but it still appeared soft looking in the light. I lowered my book onto the bench as I leaned forward to get a better look at what he was doing.

He was rolling fruit between his gloved hands. Starting with a pair of apples, he closely inspected their skin for blemishes or bruises, and then he moved onto a basket of plums. He tested their firmness and weight in his palms, and after another moment picked out four to purchase. As he reached for his money in his back pocket a soft breeze started to pick up on the street, causing the vendor’s canopy to blow upward. As he handed the middle age woman behind the table the money, the breeze grew into a slight gust. He reached down to place his plums in a bag, and as he did so the back of his hair blew up.

As he straightened with his paper bag in hand, his hair continued to stand upward. I let out a snort that came out louder than expected, and I covered my mouth immediately with my hand to smother the laugh that followed. Bucky’s head turned to locate the origin of the sound instantly and his dark eyes met mine for a moment. I dropped my gaze instantly, placing my book back in my lap but the damage was already done.

Bucky weaved back through the crowd, never removing his stare from me. As he reached the opposite end of my bench he paused for a second, knowing I’d been watching his feet move across the concrete without looking up. I glanced at his face one more time to find him fighting off a smirk. Then he stepped past me and onto a busy crosswalk, leaving me to watch him walk away again.


	2. Kinda Helpful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in flashback land. Your neighbor, Bucky Barnes, finally speaks and you kinda ask him out on a date.

The first time Bucky Barnes spoke to me was on the same busy street lined with vendor stalls. It had been 2 days since Bucky caught me snorting at his hair, and both days were spent inside my studio since it had been pouring rain in Bucharest. That alone time meant I hadn’t be able to get his strained smile off my mind.

Although the rain hadn’t completely stopped, it lightened to a sprinkle during the early afternoon on the third day and I needed to leave the apartment. Surprisingly, there were a few vendors open and one that I found easily was a candle stall. There were several people poking around, buying different size candles, and speaking much more fluent Romanian than I could fully comprehend. The little bit I could catch was discussing different apartments losing their electricity and needing light.

I snuck into the corner of the stall, picking up a couple of the pillars to smell. They each had different fragrances like lavender, lemon, and rose, but nothing too sweet or artificial. One of the signs at the stall said “3 pentru 10” meaning that 3 candles would equal 10 lei, the currency in Romania. I picked out 2 rose and 2 lavender and lemon scented candles and showed them to the man behind the stand. “Cât de-, de mult… pentru patru?” I stumbled, wanting to know how much 4 candles would cost.

He pointed to the sign that said 3 for 10 and I repeated my question again, knowing that I wasn’t fluent enough in Romanian to haggle about the candle prices. I felt Bucky’s strong and quiet presence behind me before he spoke, a flicker of familiarity and warmth spreading up from my gut. Pulling a tight yet polite smile across his lips, he approached the table and began speaking to the man. They went back and forth quickly, and I could barely keep up with what they were saying, but I caught that Bucky kept asking for the cost and that the stall owner was possibly trying to up the price of an extra candle.

After another moment of quick negotiating, Bucky turned to me, his blue eyes holding my gaze for the first time ever. In perfect English with no accent he said, “He wants 13.50 lei for them.” My eyes widened as I registered that he must not be from Romania, but I nodded, placed my candles on the table and dug into my wallet for the 13.50. His voice had sounded gruff when he spoke to me, but in Romanian he sounded smooth, almost musical. As I handed the man my money, Bucky’s covered fingers placed the candles into a brown paper bag quickly. After the man had waved me off, Bucky shoved the bag into my hands and turned on his heel.

I spun around to follow him, weaving past the few people on the street but he moved so much quicker than I could. “He-hey!” I called out as I followed him across the street, pulling the hood up on my jacket. “Mulţ-, uh, thanks!” He looked over his shoulder at me, his baseball cap shielding his eyes, and nodded. He turned his focus back to the street and continued to stalk away from me, but I wasn’t letting him go that easily. I picked up my speed and followed him for half a block until he stopped at a corner to wait for some cars to pass. “Hey! What’s your name?” I asked as I caught up with him, my breathing uneven.

“Why do you need to know?” he asked, his voice coming out low and gravely again. He turned to look at me, his blue eyes appearing gray and becoming harsher as his jaw tensed.

“Well we’re neighbors, and if I’m gonna keep seeing you around and you’re gonna go out of your way to help me, I should at least know your name.”

“You don’t need to know my name. You need to work on your Romanian,” he snapped, catching me off guard and almost making me flinch. He noticed how I reacted to his small display of aggression, and I saw his eyes soften the tiniest bit as he dropped my gaze and continued walking.

I ignored my nerves and continued after him. “Oh, come on. We don’t have to be best friends, I’m just new here and having a vaguely familiar face around would be nice.”

He came to an abrupt stop, causing me to nearly crash into him. Turning to face me, he let out an exasperated sigh, “You’re not gonna stop following me, are you?”

“Nope,” I smirked as I tilted my head to the side.

He looked away from me and took in a deep breath as he tightened his fingers into fists. As he exhaled he dropped his gaze back to me and spoke quietly, “My name is Bucky.”

Taking my small victory as it came, I gave him a toothy smile and stuck my hand out to shake his, “It’s nice to meet you Bucky, I’m (Y/N).” His eyes dropped to my hand and he stared at it like it was a foreign object. After a moment of awkwardly leaving my hand outstretched, I shrugged and dropped it. His dark blue eyes met mine once again and regarded me with a nod. I nodded back and just as quickly as he had stopped in his tracks, he turned and continued on his way. This time I didn’t follow him, but called out, “See you around.”

* * *

The first time I saw Bucky Barnes blush was in the doorway of my apartment. There was one more day of rain in Bucharest after I’d first spoken with Bucky. The day after that when the rain cleared up, I decided to adventure a little further into the city. I’d gone to a museum and a couple old churches, and on my way back to my apartment, I stopped at a small restaurant and ordered some food. Unfortunately, I found out about 3 hours later that whatever I’d eaten either wasn’t cooked, or my body just couldn’t handle it because I was up all night vomiting. Even after my stomach was empty I didn’t stop dry heaving until the next morning. When my stomach eventually calmed down, the rest of my body was so tired I passed out on my bed.

I didn’t stir until there was a series of loud thuds against my front door. I shot up out of my sleep too quickly and had to regain control over my gag reflex before I could even place my feet on the ground. The knocks started again and I pushed myself off my mattress and padded to the door. Peeking through the tiny peep hole, I caught Bucky’s sharp jawline and chin-length brown hair before I registered that he was there. I paused with my hands flat against the door and looked at what I was wearing. A pair of boyshorts, sports bra, and tank top would have to be good enough today, and I wiped around my mouth to make sure there was no drool or dried grossness left on me.

Unlocking the door, I realized my breath probably still smelled like vomit but I gulped my concern and tried to put on a pleasant smile to greet Bucky with. His left hand paused in mid air as if he was about to knock on the door again, and then he tucked his hair behind his ear and shoved the gloved hand in his jeans pocket. His right hand was tucked behind his back. “Hi,” I croaked out of my sore throat.

“Uh, um, hi,” Bucky stammered out as he glanced at my hair and clothes. His eyes settled on my feet and he pulled a brown paper bag out from behind his back. “I uh, heard you up last night, with all your ugh, sickness.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry if I kept you up,” I apologized as I dropped my gaze to his chest. Somehow he was wearing two shirts and a jacket over. I leaned a little closer to him while placing my hand on the door frame, focusing on his face again.

“No, no, I was just a jerk to you a couple days ago,” he said as he shook his head and then finally held my gaze, “And you said you didn’t know anyone here so I figured I’d do something to apologize.” He lifted the bag a little higher between us, prompting me to take it from him. “It’s supa de pui cu galuste, it’s the Romanian version of-.”

“Chicken noodle soup,” I finished for him as I accepted the bag. “Yeah, I know.” I peeked into the bag and found a quart sized container filled with soup, a sleeve of crackers, a bottle of ginger ale, and a bottle of Gatorade.

“You know the food better than you know the language?” he asked, his brows furrowing.

“Yes, yes, very much so,” I nodded as I turned on my heel and walked down the hallway to place the bag on my small kitchen table. “But admittedly, I’m much better with other languages than I am with Romanian.” Bucky stepped tentatively toward my door, pausing in the door frame and causing it to squeak. “You can come in, if you want.”

“No, no, I’m okay.” He hesitated in the doorway, peering around my apartment without ever entering it.

“Yea, it’s probably best, you don’t want to get sick if this is a stomach bug,” I said as I took the drinks out of the bag and placed them in the crappy, old fridge.

“Oh uh, I didn’t know if you’d drink either of those but I heard those are good for stomach issues.” I glanced over my shoulder at him and nodded before I shut the refrigerator door. “And um, I haven’t been sick in a long time.”

I walked back to the doorway, staying just a couple feet in front of Bucky, taking in his raised arms that were placed on either side of my door frame. His body language told me he was slowly becoming more relaxed with me, and as he settled into my doorway his shoulders appeared even broader and his biceps pulled against his jacket. I had to force my attention back to his face, yet I wanted to reach out and touch him or even yank him into the apartment. “I mean, that makes sense, you’re built like a fucking truck,” I said as I lifted my hands towards his shoulders but stopped myself before I touched him.

When I shifted my focus back to his face, I caught a slight flush spreading across his cheeks and that his blue eyes had gone wider than usual. “Ugh, sorry,” I clasped my hands in front of me, “I know I don’t know you very well and cussing doesn’t make the best impression.”

He leaned a little farther into my doorway, causing his hair to fall over his face as let out one of the most beautiful sounds I’d ever heard, a low, soft chuckle. “No, no, it’s okay. I used to be around more language, it’s just been a while. Even then, women didn’t curse around me much.”

At that moment, I knew I’d do anything to hear that chuckle again. I tried not to wring my hands together too tightly as I tried to handle the butterflies rising from my stomach. “I’m normally a little better at filtering out my language unless I’m with certain people, but I’ve been kinda sick so I guess my filter’s gone.”

“It’s okay, you just surprised me,” he started as he swiped his hair back behind his ears. We both heard a set of footsteps somewhere on the stairwell behind us. “But it was a good surprise, I promise.” He tilted his head to the side and gave me a smirk, “It reminds me of home.”

“Home?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Ugh, Brooklyn actually.” He removed his hands from my door frame but kept his relaxed body language as he looked at me, a small smile pulling across his lips as he thought about home.

“Ah, then you’re used to hearing way worse,” I nodded and peaked past his shoulder. The footsteps got closer, and when they sounded like they were a few floors away from us, I saw him stiffen, erasing every inch of comfortability between us. Noticing how he continued to stare at me but that his eyes had gone distant, I knew he was focusing on whoever was on the stairs instead of me. “But ugh, thanks again for the soup, I really appreciate it.”

He shifted his attention back to me and nodded, “You’re welcome, feel better.” He took a couple steps backwards, placing distance between us.

“I’ll try, and um, I’ll owe you dinner or something for this,” I added as he got closer to the flight of stairs above my apartment.

“You really don’t have to,” he said with modesty, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle.

“No I should, and we can figure that out later,” I answered as he stepped onto the first stair. “But thanks again, see you around.” He gave me a polite wave as he continued up the stairs and I closed my door a moment later. I watched him take the rest of the stairs to his apartment that were visible through my peephole, and tried to not focus on the fact that I’d maybe, just possibly, invited him over for a date.


	3. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, it's a date? (Still in flashbacklandia).

The first time I saw Bucky Barnes’ without gloves on was in my apartment. In fact, it was a day full of firsts. I’d waited another 24 hours to get better from my stomach stuff, and then the next day I’d decided to thank him again for his kindness and ask if I happened to make dinner the next night, if he’d be willing to join me. I somehow mustered up the courage to walk up to his door and knock 3 times. When there was no answer I knocked some more and got no response again.

I huffed out a breath and took the stairs back to my apartment quickly. Darting around to find any paper, I ripped out an empty back page of one of the books I was reading and jotted down with a sharpie, “Thanks for the soup again, I really appreciated it. And if I were to hypothetically make dinner tomorrow night, would you be interested in helping me eat it?” I signed it with my name and folded it before slipping it under his door.

I paced back and forth in my apartment for the next couple hours, waiting for a response. Maybe the paper had gotten lost when he opened the door? Or maybe he didn’t want to hurt my feelings by saying no? Maybe I was delusional to think he’d even want to spend time with me?

There was just something about him that seemed lonely, distant, and almost fearful. I’d been that way for most of my life, specifically until right before my grandmother passed and she had a heart-to-heart with me. She was the reason I was traveling around Europe, trying to go after what I wanted, and make my life my own. Before I’d come to Europe, I would have never asked Bucky to come over for dinner. I’d never have followed him for multiple blocks to get his name. And maybe my courageousness was misplaced.

Just as I thought I wasn’t going to get an answer, the paper slid back under my door. I tried to pace myself but practically sprinted to see his answer. Sitting down on the floor in front of my door, I unfolded the thick sheet. He’d scrawled in jagged writing, “I’d love to, what time should I come over?” below my original question and a grin so big it made my cheeks hurt stretched across my face. Clutching the paper against my chest, I laid back against the floor of my apartment and let out a tiny squeak. He actually wanted to spend time with me.

Unsure of whether this was going to be a platonic hangout, a date, or something in between I decided to tell him to come over around around 6:30 pm. It seemed early enough to not appear like a romantic, late night dinner, but not too early to seem like a friendly get together. After jotting down the time I snuck up the stairs as quietly as possible and slipped the paper back under his door before going back to my apartment.

I was writing a list of things I would need to make dinner when I heard his footsteps lead to his door heavily. Bucky could move as quietly and quickly as he wanted, but now that he knew me he seemed to relax and not be in stealth mode all the time. I smiled as I heard his door open a moment later, as if he was looking for me but I wasn’t there. “See you then,” his throaty voice carried through the stairwell and to my apartment. I fell asleep that night dreaming about all the ways this dinner could go right or wrong.

The next morning I woke up early to go buy fresh produce for our dinner. Luckily I had already planned on making myself a crispy, thin crust pizza and had dough chilling in my fridge since two nights before. Knowing Bucky was from Brooklyn gave me more ideas for dinner though. Obviously a good New York style pizza would be welcome, especially considering Romanian pizza was quite a bit different than New York style, but I wanted to offer him another piece of home. I figured I could make a cheesecake for dessert and hot dogs kept coming to mind too. It would not be easy to find good hot dogs in Bucharest, but the excitement building inside me said I’d walk as far as I needed to find whatever might make Bucky smile or chuckle again.

I traveled all around the city, gathering fresh veggies, fruit, cheeses, bread, herbs, alcohol, and I had even managed to find some hot dogs that weren’t from a street cart. I spent the majority of the late afternoon working on the cheesecake, and then the hour or so before he was supposed to show up I started on the pizza. I changed while the pizza cooked and had quite the staring match with my closet. In the end I decided to wear a dress, but more of a casual black lace skater style dress. I wanted to look cute, but not like I was preparing for a gourmet meal. When the oven went off I took the pizza out, slid it onto a plate to cool, and then placed the hot dog buns into the turned off oven to warm. I pan fried the hot dogs last, not knowing whether he’d even eat them, but freshly cooked hot dogs were always better than re-warmed ones.

When the food was all ready, I had 10 minutes before he was supposed to arrive to pick up my apartment and do my makeup. I threw all my dirty clothes that were laying around in the hamper I hid in the closet, and I lit two of the candles he’d helped me buy to combat some of the food smells. I slapped on the most makeup I could in the time I had left, which was pretty much a bb cream, brows, mascara and a little bit of lip gloss.

Three heavy thuds came from my door as I finished applying my lip gloss and checked the clock. He was 3 minutes early. I scrunched my hair up a bit and sprayed a small amount of perfume on my wrists and neck as he knocked again. “Coming!” I called out as I scurried for the door. I yanked the door open more eagerly than I had intended but his knocking sounded impatient and I didn’t want the night to start badly.

I smiled at him and took a deep breath before I let out a quiet, “Hi.” He met my gaze for only a moment before his eyes dropped to look at what I was wearing. He had apparently decided to clean up for me a little as well. His hair was freshly washed and combed, with no hat in sight. He was wearing a pair of dark wash jeans I hadn’t seen before, a black long sleeve henley with a white tank underneath, his jacket, and his gloves although he was holding one hand behind his back.

Regaining his focus, he looked at my face again. “Uh, um, hi,” a small smile tugged on his lips. “You look, uh, really nice,” his smile wavered but I caught a small blush starting on his cheeks.

“I mean, the last time you saw me I was a mess after spending the whole night vomitting, so anything is nice in comparison,” I shrugged and dropped my gaze, trying to deflect his compliment. If this wasn’t a date, I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

“No you look really good, period,” he corrected me, causing a slight blush to spread across my own cheeks. I looked up at him from under my lashes and tried to not give away how my stomach suddenly jumped into my throat. So okay, this might be a date. “These are for you,” he added as he lifted a bouquet of flowers towards me, pushing our focus away from each other.

I took the flowers from him and smelled them for a moment, my smile becoming smaller but more hopeful. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.” Okay, this was probably a date. I stepped back from the door and waved him into the apartment, before turning on my heel and going to the kitchen to find something to put the flowers in. He paused with his feet on the door frame, his weight causing it to squeak under him. He stood as still as possible, inspecting my hallway closely. “I promise it’s not booby trapped. A little worn and dusty but not dangerous.”

His gaze snapped back to me and I could have sworn he gulped, but he put on a slightly apologetic face and stepped into my hallway carefully. After I’d placed the flowers into an empty liquor bottle filled with water, I glanced over my shoulder to find him standing at the end of the hallway, taking in my entire shared living room, dining room, and bedroom space. “You can leave your jacket on the couch if you want,” I told him, trying to encourage him to relax. After he finished analyzing my apartment, he nodded and laid it across the armrest.

“I hope you don’t think it’s too cheesy, but I made a couple New York classics,” I spoke turning my back to him again. I grabbed the plate of hot dogs and moved them to the counter before I grabbed a couple condiments from the fridge. I kept my back to him for another moment, fussing with the buns and the pizza. I could feel him behind me, closer than he’d been to me all night and I was afraid to see his reaction. Suddenly doing a theme dinner seemed less cute and more tacky.

When I turned around, he was leaning against the counter behind me with his right hand reaching out toward my arm. He dropped his hand as I moved the food and then leaned against the counter edge perpendicular to him. “It looks great,” he said, his eyes appearing soft and the same small smile from the doorway tugging on his lips. “I haven’t been back to New York in a while, so I really appreciate it.”

“I know it’s a little tacky, but I don’t know. I just figured a little piece of home might be nice,” I said, avoiding his eyes as I started cutting the pizza. He stayed quiet for a moment, causing me to second guess myself for what was feeling like the hundredth time.

His fabric wrapped fingers gently brushed and then wrapped around my wrist, stopping me from moving. We both stared down at our hands for a second before he looked at me again, “It’s perfect.” I tried not to grin too hard when he kept his grip on my wrist for another moment, but a couple seconds later he let me go and I continued cutting the pizza. “You know you didn’t have to do this all for me.” He dropped his hand and leaned a little farther back, putting more distance between us.

“I know.” I tried regaining my confidence, remembering how ballsy I’d been when I’d chased him down the street and asked him to come over. “I wanted to.” I peeked at him, finding another flush on his cheeks. “What would you like to drink? I have wine, beer, water, and a little bit of soda.”

“What are you gonna drink?” he asked, leaning both his elbows against my counter and sticking his butt out a little.

“Probably a beer,” I answered as I pulled out a couple plates and tried not to focus on how cute his ass looked in those jeans. “Since hot dogs and pizza normally pair best with beer.”

“Then I’ll have a beer too.” Placing two beers on the counter, I used my bottle opener to pop the caps off and then slid one to him. He nodded his thanks and took a swig. I watched as he gulped and kinda squinted at the alcohol in his mouth, and the face he made nearly made me laugh. I smothered my grin with my own beer and then got to work putting together a hot dog for me. “It’s been a minute since I’ve had a beer,” he added, trying to recover. After a moment, he took another gulp and his reaction was nearly identical. That time I couldn’t help myself and I let out a snort. He tilted his head and scolded me, “Hey, no snorting at me. That’s how we got in this mess.” He broke out in a genuine grin then, and my heart felt like it hit the floor.

“The mess of you paying attention to me?” I asked taking another drink. He nodded, leaving that beautiful grin on his lips. “I think that worked out in my favor just fine.”

“How so?” He placed a bun and then a hot dog on his plate before adding the mustard I’d laid out and the sauerkraut.

“Well, you’re here aren’t you?” I silently thanked god that I’d picked the classic Coney Island toppings.

“Was that your plan all along?” he smirked as he raised his eyebrows, causing a cute set of wrinkles to appear on his forehead.

“No, I definitely did not plan for this all.” I grabbed two pieces of pizza and navigated past him to get to my tiny table with its mismatched wooden chairs. “And you wouldn’t be here if you had no interest in spending time with me,” I added as I playfully backhanded his shoulder.

My knuckles hit something hard and a metallic sound echoed from his arm. The charm and humor dropped from his face completely and he straightened his spine. Looking at his arm for a moment and then me, he gauged my reaction. I didn’t know what to say or what was going on, but if his demeanor changed that quickly something must be up. I didn’t want to press him on it so I sat down at the table like nothing happened, but felt interest clawing at the back of my mind.

As I took a bite of my pizza, he relaxed his body and added some slices of pizza to his plate. Taking the beer and plate to the table, he sat down across from me. He lifted the hot dog to his mouth with both of his gloves still on and my curiosity got the best of me. “You know you can take those gloves off. No use getting food stains on them,” the words came out muffled as I held a hand up to my mouth to cover the fact that I was still chewing.

His steely blue eyes darted to mine and his face stayed blank. When I shrugged after a moment and went back to looking at my food, he put his hot dog back down. He took his right glove off first, and I tried not to make it too obvious that I was paying attention. I’d never seen him without gloves on and I did not have an explanation for why he wore them all the time. Pale, long fingers emerged, with veins popping out of his hands and trailing up to his arms. He stared at me another moment, contemplating taking off the left glove, but he eventually sighed and peeled it off. I controlled my expression as much as possible as he uncovered a shiny metal hand, comprised of layers of tiny metal plates allowing him to move his fingers and wrist like joints.

He measured my reaction as he lifted up his hot dog and took a bite out of it. I did my best to not focus on his hand and instead watched his reaction to the food. After he realized that I wasn’t going to press him on his metal hand, he put on a little show for me, moaning just the tiniest bit as he chewed his hot dog. That moan somehow caused a warmth to spread through my entire lower body, and trying to control myself I crossed my legs and sat back a little farther in my chair. “Not quite as good as a Coney Island hot dog, but definitely the second best hot dog I’ve ever had.”

I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and took a bite of my own. “It’s not bad, but nothing beats a good cheese and bacon dog.”

He scoffed at my comment and took another bite of his hot dog before chiding me, “You know that’s a disrespectful thing to say to a New Yorker?”

“I do,” I nodded and tried not to smile since I was still chewing. “But I have a feeling you’ll be just fine.” He chuckled as he swallowed another bite and just as easily as the evening had begun, we launched back into playfully teasing each other and some actual conversation.


	4. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First date continued and Bucky is so very cute. Still in the past. (This is a long one guys).

“I started in Sorrento, then went to Milan. Then Munich, Vienna, and Budapest before here. I still have a couple weeks planned in Istanbul, and I end my trip in Patras. But Bucharest is the first place I’ve been able to stay longer than a couple weeks in, and I haven’t had to stay in a hostel which I am more than fine with,” I explained as I watched Bucky push away his plate, leaving only a couple crumbs on it. He’d gone back for another 2 slices of pizza and 2 more hot dogs, and we’d both finished an additional beer.

“That sounds like an interesting trip. Why are you traveling by yourself?” he asked, his body fully relaxed with his feet extended so that they were about 3 inches from my own.

“I’m trying to get out of my comfort zone. Try new things, be brave.” He’d been deflecting most of my personal questions all night, rerouting to ask me questions instead. “Why are you here by yourself?”

He paused, dropping his gaze to his hands. I anticipated that he’d brush off the question or divert it back to me, but to my surprise he gave me an honest answer. “It’s generally best if I’m alone. For others and for myself.”

I leaned forward desperately wanting to grab his hand and squeeze it. My right arm stretched across the table, reaching out to his metal hand, but my self-control kicked in 2 inches from it and I dropped mine onto the table. “I don’t believe that. I like being alone but no one can do it all by themself. There’s no way to live your life without others.”

His eyes focused on my fingers, mere inches from his own but he didn’t connect the distance. Instead he lowered that hand into his lap and hung his head. My heart ached for him and I wished I could hold him. Every feeling I’d picked up on before we got to know each other was correct, he was lonely and actively creating more distance between everyone he could. I left my palm flat against the table and asked, “If you want to be alone, then why are you here with me?”

He eyed my fingers and then my expression, contemplating what to say and when I didn’t get an answer I pushed my chair back and stood up. Stacking the plates and beers to clear the table, I moved around him and he finally gave in. “I don’t want to be alone, I just think it’s best for me to be alone. And if I was with someone, I’d just end up hurting them.”

I paused, trying to swallow his words. I understood what he meant but that still didn’t answer why he was sitting at my table. Fighting off my every instinct to comfort him, I clutched the edge of the sink so hard my knuckles turned white. When I felt my urge was slightly more under control I turned on the faucet and started working on the plates.

The noise of the water crashing against metal and ceramic pulled Bucky out of his distant daze and he hopped up immediately. “You made all that food, the least I can do is clean up the mess.”

He approached the sink, reaching his hands out to stop me but instead I just picked up the dishwashing liquid and squirted it on the pan, “No.”

Leaning against the counter on his hip, he tilted his head and pouted, “Come on, let me do something.” I glanced his way and tried not to notice the way his bottom lip jutted out. My need to soothe his pain shrunk but was replaced with the desire to do something else. I couldn’t quite navigate if my feelings were romantic or platonic but that didn’t matter because all I knew was I wanted him in my life.

I sighed, giving in, and tossed him a towel, “I wash, you dry.” Catching it, he gave me a victorious smile and closed the distance between us. He sidled up to me and waited until I finished scrubbing the plates. A hard, metal elbow brushed against my hip as I turned and handed him the dishes, and I caught his eyes darting to look at my side and then my face. His expression looked worried but I shook my head, “It’s fine Bucky.” His hands worked on the plates but his focus stayed on me. In the process of scrubbing a particularly hard stop of cheese I added, “I’m not afraid of you and if you want to be here, I won’t make you leave.”

“But you really should,” he muttered.

Letting out an exasperated groan, I turned to hand him the pan. “Well I won’t.” His metal hand reached out and grasped the handle my fingers were still wrapped around. “I’m not gonna walk away from you.” I worked up the nerve and placed my other hand on top of our joined ones. “And whatever it is you’re trying to hide from me, you don’t need to. I didn’t freak about this,” I dropped my gaze from his profile down to our hands, gesturing to his metal prosthetic. “And I promise I won’t flip about anything else either.”

Remaining frozen, he seemed to mull over what I was saying. When I removed my left hand from on top of his, he kept his grip on my right one. After what seemed like an agonizingly long second, he brushed his thumb gently back and forth across mine. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but my heart rate doubled and I knew no matter what he had to say I wouldn’t stop wanting the best for him.

I snaked my hand out from under his and let him finish drying the pan while I went back to work on the rest of dishes. “I’m here because I don’t want to be alone and you remind me of someone I used to know.” He placed the pan into another cabinet and turned to watch me. “Someone who didn’t back down or give up, and when you followed me down the street that day I knew no matter how hard I’d try to stay away from you, you’d keep coming back. So instead of fighting you, I’m here.”

“That was smart of you,” I smirked, gently bumping his hip with mine. “Also, tell me more about this friend.”

Glancing over, I caught the corners of his eyes crinkling and a small smile spreading across his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called smart.” If he hadn’t been grinning I might have hugged him right then, but I handed him the pizza tray instead. “His name is Steve and we met when we were young and some kids tried to steal his lunch money so I stepped in…” he continued on, saying the most he’d said the entire night, getting caught up in a sentimental moment. But I couldn’t focus on the words coming out of his mouth anymore.

He had seemed so familiar to me since that day in the rain but I thought he’d just looked like someone I’d met before, yet all the pieces were falling into place. A Steve and Bucky that grew up together in Brooklyn. A Steve that never backed down from a fight, and a Bucky who played his protector. His jawline and his cheekbones, his blue eyes and cocky smirk, and the way his light blue eyes could gaze right through you or make you melt with playful glance. I’d stared at pictures of this man in my history books, seen videos of him in class, read about his best friend and him for years. In my mind I was cutting his hair, shaving his face, thinning him down and placing him in fatigues.

He hadn’t noticed that my entire body had stilled and cutting him off too quickly, I murmured, “What’s your last name?” He turned to face me, a question on his lips as his brows furrowed. “Bucky, what’s your last name?” I managed to ask a little louder.

Eyes growing wider, he took a step back from me. “I don’t think that’s a good-.”

“Bucky, what is your last name?” I spoke clearly and loudly this time. I watched him clench his jaw and spread his legs more, preparing to go on the offensive if needed but I couldn’t let him see me as a threat. I moved quickly and grabbed both of his wrists in my hands. “Just… say it.”

He wouldn’t look at me as his whispered, “Barnes.” I dropped his hands and took a sharp inhale of air, holding it in my lungs for several seconds before letting it out. “I should go,” he started and stalked toward the couch, reaching for his jacket.

“Wait-,” I called out, following him across my living room. He didn’t stop but he slowed as I cornered him against the couch, keeping his back to me. “James Buchanan Barnes,” I said, forcing my voice to come out calmly and steadily. He twitched at his full name and I couldn’t stop myself anymore, I gripped his shoulder and forced him to turn. Pivoting toward me with his jacket in hand, his face remained hard and unreadable. I grabbed his jacket from him and tossed it back on the couch. “Say something.”

His steely eyes boring into mine, “You figured me out and now you’re freaking out.”

I closed my eyes and let out a deep sigh, screwing whatever self control was. “No,” I shook my head and reached for his wrists again. He clenched his fingers into fists but let me move them. I placed his left palm against my chest, just over my heart, and his right hand against the the base of my neck and waited for him to extend his fingers. After a moment of resistance, he unfolded them, resting his fingertips just above my collarbone and on my pulse point. I knew my heart rate was quick but not because of fear or panic, more so because Bucky was touching me.

“I’m not freaking out, I’m just processing.”

“But your heart is racing…,” he cut in, feeling my heart and lungs pounding against my chest.

“Not because of that,” I shook my head and tried to slow my breathing and pulse. “More because of this.” I gave his wrists a little squeeze to indicate my quickened heart beat was because his hands. “And not because I’m scared of you, but because I uh,” I started to explain but lost my nerve. Until a minute ago I barely knew anything about this man, but the way butterflies tickled my stomach and my skin tingled and warmed under his hands made it clear that I wanted more from him. I wanted his mouth against mine, wanted his arms around me, wanted our fingers intertwined.

“You what?” he prompted, his lips parting as his eyes stayed trained on mine.

“I um,” I dropped my hands from his wrists and focused on his chest, because I was afraid to see his reaction. “I kinda like you.”

The metal hand dropped from my chest but his flesh hand remained against my neck, only sliding to the side. “I like you too.” Yet his tone was oblivious to what I’d truly met, completely unaware of how I reacted to his tiniest smile, or chuckle, or even touch. He hooked his thumb under my jaw and angled my head so I’d look at him. The hardness of his features softened as he stared at me, locking us both in a silent moment of intimacy.

Staring into his blue eyes, I knew my filter with Bucky was gone now and honesty would spill out of me whether I wanted it to or not. I shook my head and stepped away from him, “Not like that, not in the same way.” He let me go and I walked to the fridge, trying desperately to find something else to focus on besides him. My gaze landed on the cheesecake sitting on the shelf, and with a deep sigh I carried it to the countertop. “I forgot about dessert.”

Standing there, with his shoulders hunched and head tilted forward, causing his hair to fall over his face, he was the effigy of a lonely man. When he unlocked his limbs, his jaw clenched as he gave me a tight-lipped, “I should probably still go.”

“That’s not necessary Bucky,” I responded, pulling out the plum and blackberry sauce I’d made for dessert. He looked at the door, weighing whether he should leave. When he remained in the same spot for another moment, I went to him. Raising my hands slowly, I gently slid my fingers across his jawline, his scruff scratching my skin. When my palms rested on his jaw and my fingers on his cheekbones, he tried to shake my hands off but I stilled his head so he was looking at me. “If you want to go, I won’t stop you. But if you’re trying to leave because you think that’s what I want, or because you think that’s what’s best, I assure you that you’re wrong.”

The way he looked at me almost pulled me onto my toes and towards his mouth, but I focused on all the planes of his face and the way he felt under my hands. After another silent minute of intimacy he leaned his cheek against one my hands and nodded, relaxing into me again. “I’m happy you made that decision, because if you went home now you’d miss out on cheesecake with a plum and blackberry sauce.”

“Plums?” he asked, inching his mouth the tiniest bit closer to my hands, his bottom lip brushing against my palm. I nodded and his hands rose to my forearms, gently slipping up to my wrists. “How did you know?”

“I caught you picking plums the day you first paid attention to me.”

“Normally I’d be much more concerned about you watching me,” he started, releasing my wrists and moving towards the table. “But against my better judgment, I’ll admit that you really do seem like the last person in the world who could hurt me.”

I shrugged as I went back to the counter and began cutting the cheesecake. “People watching you might be a serious and threatening risk the rest of the time, but don’t worry about me.” I mean, he had to be stalked or watched, he was a hundred year old man with a very technologically advanced prosthetic, but my interest in him had started well before I knew any of those things. “Granted, you could consider my behavior a bit creepy.”

“Creepy doesn’t really fit you,” he smirked from the table as I carried two plates of cheesecake to him. “But I’ll just take it as flattery.” Placing a dish in front of him, he chewed on his lip waiting to be able to take a bite. I held a finger up to him, making him wait as he picked up his fork. As I spooned the compote over the top of the cheesecake, he let out a little moan of excitement.

“No more of that please,” I whispered as I looked up from under my lashes. His cheeks grew red at my words and I tried not to look too proud of my small achievement. Sitting across from him, I finished prepping my dessert before we both took our first bites at the same time. As I chewed my food, Bucky let out another playful moan and my eyes shot up to him from my plate. My neck and chest felt warm, like my blush was attempting to spread from my face to my entire body.

He finished chewing as a playful grin spread across his lips, and as I glared him down he threw back his head and laughed. And it was not just any laugh, it was a deep, loud laugh that rose from his belly, consumed every inch of his body, and sounded like music to my ears. The infectiousness of the sound forced me to break my glare and smile with him.

After his laughter died down and he took another bite of cheesecake, my focus turned back to conversation. Unsure of how he’d respond to me fishing to get answers out of him, I wanted to approach the discussion with subtlety. “Tell me more about growing up in New York?”

He swallowed his bite, “I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”

Letting out a deep sigh, I decided to screw delicacy, “I mean, I probably already know a little about your life before the war.”

“You do?” his eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah,” I nodded, chewing another small bite of food. “You’ve been in my history books since I was like 10.” Tilting his head as he continued eating, his features displayed a question. “You, and Steve, and the rest of the Howling Commandos. You’re a significant piece of history, helping fight Hydra.” His jaw twitched at the mention of Hydra. “Textbooks focused on Steve since you know, he’s Captain America, but they still talked about you being his best friend and growing up together. I mean, I question the validity of all that, so if you want to tell me you can.”

He hesitated, staring at a large piece of plum on his fork, “I uh, well Steve was my best friend since we were kids. I talked about him earlier, but he was just a little fighter, always ready and revving to go. Of course he was too little to not get his ass beat so I always had to step in…” Bucky continued talking about Steve, with the same nostalgic smile on his face from earlier. I continued eating, watching him speak enthusiastically, enjoying a piece of Bucky from before the war.

* * *

After listening to him animatedly discuss growing up with Steve, and even admitting to being a bit of ladies man, I didn’t want this Bucky to disappear again. I didn’t want this excited and relaxed man to be replaced by his lonely, timid, and worried self, but I needed to ask him something else. “Bucky,” I started as I pushed my empty plate away from me. “Where have you been for the last 70 years?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Shaking his head just the slightest bit, a piece of his hair slipped in front of his face.

My fingers twitched against the table, instinctively wanting to tuck the strand behind his ear. “Try me.”  

“Did you ever learn anything about Arnim Zola?” he asked, his gaze dropping back to his empty plate.

“Um, briefly, but yes, he was a scientist in Hydra that worked with the Red Skull.”

He nodded, exhaling a deep breath, “I’d already been experimented on before I fell off that train, and somehow I survived the fall and was taken to Zola.” Controlling my reaction as best I could, I reached across the table again with the intention of resting my hand on top of his metal one, but he pulled it from the table before I had a chance to make contact. “That’s how I ended up with this,” he held his chrome fingers up to the light, staring at them with disgust. “He did shit to my head, made me something-, something less than human. Turned me into a tool for Hydra, an assassin for them, and for the last 70 years I was doing their bidding with no memory of who I was.”

“How did you get out of it?” I asked, keeping my hand outstretched, hoping he’d drop his back onto the table. I wasn’t scared of him, no matter what he’d done or who he’d been. The Bucky sitting in front of me was obviously not the same person who’d been brainwashed to do all those horrible things.

“Uh, I actually was sent on a mission to kill Steve, and my programming started to fall apart.” He placed his hand back on the table, but several more inches away from mine.

Metal arm, long brown hair, assassin after Steve, unsurprisingly none of this sounded fake because I’d already known about it. “That happened in DC. You were the Winter Soldier,” I announced, my eyebrows rising in understanding. His jaw tensed at my mention of his old alias.

“How do you know that name?” he nearly growled, shifting his body forward and firmly pinning my hand against the table with his metal one.

I wanted to flinch at his sudden change of tone and presence, but I knew if I did he’d feel worse about his actions later. “That wasn’t the best kept secret after Hydra fell, and while you were in DC I was in Baltimore at graduate school. One of my best friends from undergrad was working in SHIELD then and survived the hostile takeover. He told me about what happened that day, and that included a foreign assassin with a metal arm. Also there’s been mention of you in several different forums on the internet for several years.”

Releasing part of the tension from his body, he sat back into his seat and loosened his jaw, “Sorry, I, I guess it’s still instinct.”

This time I wasn’t letting him get away, and I grabbed his metal hand as he tried to remove it from mine. His focus shot to my face, wondering what I was doing but I kept my actions gentle yet purposeful. “That’s okay, I’m not afraid.” Pulling his hand back down, I laid his knuckles against the table and rested two fingers where the lines inside of a human hand would have been. “Can you feel this?” I asked gently trailing my fingertips down his palm.

“Yes,” he answered quietly, his eyes closing as I traced small circles onto the hand’s metal plates. “But barely.”

“So you can feel weight and pressure since I saw you do so at the fruit stand.” Nodding, his eyes remained shut as he tried to focus on my touch. “Can you feel temperature and texture?” I asked as my other hand slipped over his thumb and I applied a bit more pressure. Obviously the metal didn’t give the same way flesh did, but I did my best to recreate what would have been a hand massage on actual skin.

“Texture, yes,” he groaned giving into what must have felt nice to him. “Temperature is relative, your hands feel warm against mine because the metal generally stays colder. Things that are colder feel cool, but not cold. The arm has a harder time working in the cold, which is normally how I gauge temp. But it can handle heat and lots of it.”

“What about pain?” I asked, continuing to work the layered plates under my fingers.

His eyes opened but his body stayed relaxed. “Yes, but it’s different than human pain. If someone were to tug at my arm, it’d hurt like hell. But fire doesn’t burn, sharp objects tend to break on contact, bullets feel like pressure but bounce off. Something has to push or pull really hard and in an unnatural way before it feels like human pain.”

I worked my pressure down each of his smooth fingers, focusing on where his joints would be. “I don’t know why you’re not afraid of this,” he started, giving his fingers a small twitch under my own.

“Just like the Bucky you were before the war, and the Bucky you were after you’d been experimented on, this is a part of you too.” As I reached the tip of his pinky, I finished kneading his hand and flipped it over.

“Yes, a horrible, violent part of me that murdered lots of people without even blinking.”

I gently patted his hand with my own, “Yes, but the person sitting in front of me knows what he did, and you clearly are still wrestling with it. The person who killed all those people is not the person you are today. It is a part of you, but so is every other thing you’ve done or been through. The person in front of me, the person you are now is someone I trust.” His eyelids grew heavier as he features softened to a dreamy look. At that moment I knew he felt safe with me and that I might be one of the first people he’d felt safe with in a very long time. As I squeezed his metal hand I added, “And I trust you to be in control of what this piece of you does.”

His head tilted to the side, watching me closely as I slid back into my chair taking my right hand from his metal one. I reached my left one out instead, finding his flesh hand on the table. Rotating his hand, he slipped his fingers between mine, interlocking them, “I’ll try my best to live up to your faith in me.” I could only smile and nod at him. This soft side of Bucky appeared less than any other side of him, but I knew it somehow was the sum of everything he’d been through. After another silent moment of hand holding, he sat forward, “I should probably go.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall brought me back to reality, and I reluctantly let him go. Nodding, I rose from my chair and he followed me across my living room. Standing in the small hallway, I waited to let him out as he slipped his jacket on and grinned my way, “(Y/N) thank you again, for everything tonight. This was a really nice evening, and I don’t think I’ve had one of those in a long time.”

“Well thank you for keeping me company, and I’ll keep whatever was said here tonight quiet,” I smiled as I did a locking motion towards my mouth. “And I’m sorry if I made you talk about anything you didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to pry but I guess I did.”

His large form approached me with a soft smirk on his lips, “I told you those things because I wanted to. It’s probably good for me to talk about it.” He stopped directly in front of me, his entire body just mere inches from mine as we both faced each other in such a small space. Looking up to meet his gaze caused a piece of my hair to fall over my eye. He chuckled as he lifted his human hand and brushed it out of my face, “And I like you.” I felt my breath hitch as his calloused thumb rubbed against my cheek and he licked his lips. “And yes, in the same way.”

Dropping my eyes to his wet lips, I felt like my entire body was about to turn to jelly. His lips moved towards mine slowly, and I looked back up at his eyes just as they closed and his lips brushed mine gently. I stayed frozen for only a second, in shock that this was really happening, and as my own eyes shut I kissed him back. His soft lips molded to mine, and as I slid my hands up his shoulders and gathered them behind his neck, his composure crumbled. His metal arm met the wall and as I rose onto my toes to get a better angle to his mouth, his body pushed mine against the wall.

His flesh hand moved from my face to my hip as he pressed my body against his. Our mouths separated the tiniest bit to allow him to slide his tongue against my bottom lip, seeking entrance and with a smile on my lips, I welcomed him in. As the kiss deepened, every nerve ending in my body felt electric and my hands knotted into his hair to steady myself. He tasted of the berries and cream he’d just eaten and I greedily kissed him back, slipping my own tongue against his lips, needing more of him. His hand slid from my hip to the small of my back, lifting me off the wall gently and even closer to him as his beard scratched against my skin. I tugged on his hair and felt him moan against me, causing my entire lower body to flood with heat.

And just as that sound of pleasure seemed to set me off, it did the opposite for him. His mouth left mine and his open lips panted for air. He rolled his head back as he held me against him, and I heard a whispered, “wow” escape him. Moving his hand back to my hip, he placed more space between us but all I wanted to do was pull him against me again and attach my lips to his neck. He wouldn’t look at me for another moment and I pulled my hands away from him, resigning myself to the fact that the moment was over.

“Thank you again,” he murmured as he touched his lips gently and tilted his head down to look at me.

“You’re more than welcome,” I said, trying to not let my disappointment show through my smirk. I unlocked the door and he turned toward it, his face still appearing shaken. As I pulled the door towards us, he looked over his shoulder at me and gave me a small smile, and I knew then that although I wanted more from him, this was the most he could handle right now and that was a victory for him. I watched him walk out my door, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure I could see the smile on his lips.

As he got halfway up the flight of stairs I remembered that he hadn’t tasted like wine, and that was because I forgot about the bottle that was chilling in my fridge. And that bottle and the rest of the cheesecake was an excuse to invite him over again. I called out to him as he got to the next flight of stairs, “I forgot about the wine. You’ll have to come over some time and help me drink it.”

He chuckled from the floor above me and peeked over the railing. “I’d really like that,” he smiled and I couldn’t help but grin back this time. I closed my door right after he disappeared from the stairwell, and leaning against my door, I bit my lip and let out a little squeak.

This had definitely been a date.


	5. Reassurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date two and a night spent together (things get a little mature). Still in flashbacks, and this one is long too.

Three days later, Bucky spent another evening with me, but he came over much later and we were on very different terms than we’d been when he’d last entered my apartment. After a brief flirtation in his doorway the day before, he agreed to help me finish the cheesecake and wine. Unsurprisingly, he showed up with a fresh bouquet of flowers and I almost hit him with them. It was an amazingly sweet gesture, but it wasn’t necessary after the heated moment we shared in my hallway.

We both dressed much more casually than we had on our last date, and I opened the door to find him in a grey henley, black undershirt, blue jeans, and his hair tied into a low bun. He wore only one glove on his left hand, and the second I closed my door he was pulling it off. I’d opted for a pair of grey jeans with busted knees and a black v-neck. I popped the bottle of wine, pouring it into the pair of cheap wine glasses I’d found, and set out the plate of leftover cheesecake with two forks. After dumping the rest of the plum and berry topping onto the dessert, we both dug in, eating directly from the same plate. The sound of forks scraping against ceramic and clinking against each other filled the air with our laughter and relaxed conversation.

Unlike our previous date, this one was spent discussing the present and the future. We’d dwelled enough on our pasts, and I didn’t want to bring up anything that would change this easy-going, confident, and happy Bucky into anything else. He revealed that he wanted to move back to the US one day, but considering he was a wanted fugitive for his involvement in the fall of SHIELD, that was probably going to have to wait.

When I asked him about marriage and a family he shrugged, his pleasant mood waning slightly, “I wanted those things when I was young, before all this.” Lifting his left hand, he stared at it, calculating how it would appear to a family, to children. “But I haven’t thought about those things in a long time, and I don’t even know if I’m still capable of that.”

Attempting to lighten the mood, I yanked his metal hand out of the air and warmed it in mine, “Babe, I know you’re technically like 100 years old, but physically you’re barely pushing 30 so you’re definitely still capable of that.”

His brows furrowed as he tried to understand what I’d meant, and as he did his mouth opened, letting out a small “ohhh” and a chuckle. “That wasn’t what I was saying, but you’re probably right.” I swallowed my last bite of cheesecake, giving his metal fingers one more squeeze and then pushed the plate his way to finish. Looking up from under his lashes, he gave me a small smirk, “I kinda like when you call me babe.”

“You do, huh?” I asked as I emptied the last of the wine into both of our glasses.

“I really do doll,” a blush was creeping across his cheeks, and I couldn’t help but bite my lip at how good he looked sitting across from me. I wanted his hands on me, wanted his body pressed against mine but he remained on the other side of my table, glancing up from his fork every few seconds to see how I’d reacted to his words.

Sitting back in my chair and crossing my legs, I cocked my head to the side and smiled, “Well, I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

* * *

After he finished the cheesecake and we both emptied our wine glasses I placed the dishes in the sink and turned to find him standing over my coffee table, flipping through the couple books sitting there. “Do you read anything?” I asked, resting my elbows against the counter as I watched him.

“Yeah, a little.” He picked up the largest book I had with me,  _Paradise Los_ t, and sat down on my couch with it. “I finished  _1984_  a few months ago, but it hit a little too close to home with how my memories of everything I did and was done to me like to slip in and out. I started  _The Count of Monte Cristo_  last month and I’m trying to get through it.”

I sighed, still leaning on the counter, “That’s a long ass book, but it’s definitely better for your mental health.” After skimming a few more pages, he patted the cushion next to him, motioning for me to sit. I moved reluctantly, wishing I could keep my distance and just watch him flip through a book as he chewed on his lip.

Sinking down on the spot furthest from him, I tucked my legs under me and sat facing him. He closed the paperback in his left hand, his right snaking out to my ankle and gently rubbing up my calf until he reached my knee. I tried not to react too obviously but his hand on me, even through the layer of my jeans, made my insides warm and fluttery. “Read to me?” he asked, his fingers hooked under my knee as he carefully pulled me across the couch and my legs over his lap.

“You want me to read an epic poem to you?” I asked incredulously. I wanted to separate our limbs to give me more space to think and control my urges.

“Well, obviously not the whole thing,” he shrugged as he dropped the book into my lap. “But whatever part you want to. I’ve never read it and this way I’ll be able to just listen and enjoy it.”

His metal hand hovered loosely over my calf as his flesh hand slid slightly over my knee and up my thigh, before inching back down to my joint. Squeezing my eyes shut, I held my breath in my lungs, trying not to gasp or react to his hands on me. “I don’t know if I can do Milton justice.”

“I don’t believe that,” he shook his head, causing a piece of hair to loosen near his face. “I like your voice, it’s calming to me and I could use more of that in my life.”

I let out a sigh and opened my eyes, “Okay.” Before laying back against the couch I reached out for his cheek, softly brushing my fingers against his scruff and tucking the piece of hair behind his ear, “But only for you.” He smirked victoriously at me as I tried not to melt inside.

* * *

Several pages into my favorite passage in book 5, where Satan watches Adam and Eve in Eden, I got uncomfortable laying back to read to him and sat up. His right hand left my legs to wrap around my back and pull me into him. I lost my place in the poem and stared up at him, catching the way he was watching me. The softness of his eyes, the scent of his aftershave, the warmth radiating through his clothes, all pulled me closer to his mouth.

I moved quickly, pushing the book off the couch and grabbing his jaw between my hands. Tilting his mouth toward mine, I closed the space between our lips, needing to taste him, to feel more of him. He jerked under me in shock as my lips crushed his. As his surprise wore off, his flesh hand slipped into my hair while his metal one gripped my thigh. He kissed me back, pushing my lips apart hungrily for only a second before his fingers met the back of my neck. Pulling away from my lips, he pressed his forehead against mine.

His grip on my thigh loosened, and I felt the coolness of his hand leave my leg but I still tingled where the metal had been. The problem with forcing me away from his mouth was that I could still see his pink lips as he caught his breath. My hands stayed on his face, shifting it upward the slightest bit, allowing access to his jaw and neck. Kissing softly against his cheek first, I felt his smile against my skin, and as I trailed my lips down to his jaw he tilted his head back even more, encouraging me to continue. My lips scratched against his scruff as I kissed under his jaw, and hearing the arm of my loveseat squeak under his metal grip only encouraged me to keep going.

Knotting my hands into his hair as I reached his neck, I opened my mouth and nipped at his skin before smoothing over the bite with a gentle kiss and a flick of my tongue. His groan felt like it erupted from his entire body, and it tickled my lips as I freed a hand to tug at his shirt collar. Moving closer to his collarbone, I nipped at him harder, eliciting a small gasp from his lips. As I pressed my lips against his shoulder his fingers tightened around my neck. Translating the reaction as positive, I moved my legs so that I could slip down his body easier and continued to pull at his shirt so my lips could reach his chest.

His metal hand grabbed my legs, forcing them back into their original position and his flesh hand firmly pulled my mouth from his skin. I pouted as he pressed his forehead against mine and gave me a quick peck. “Doll, I think we should get back to reading,” he murmured, his breath ghosting against my lips.

Straightening against him, I pulled my hands and face from his, and sat back, “Sorry, I-, I got caught up in the moment.”

“Don’t apologize,” he cut in, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “Your lips, your mouth, that felt amazing but I think it’s best I take things, uh, slower.” Nodding into his hand, I planted a small kiss on his palm, causing him to grin. The crinkles around his eyes made my heart race and my stomach do somersaults.

Planting one more tender kiss on his lips, I swung my legs away from his and tucked them underneath me before I picked up the book. As I paged back through to find where I’d left off, Bucky pulled me into his side, wrapping his arm around my waist. I rested my head on his shoulder as I read the rest of the passage, and we stayed cuddled on the couch until he decided to leave. His goodbye was nowhere near as passionate as our brief hallway make out, but it was emotional and warm, and his way of letting me know how much he cared about me.

* * *

Someone was screaming.

I bolted up from my bed, breath coming quick from being startled. A thud came from the floor above me, and then another loud shout. It sounded scared but angry, and as more thuds came from Bucky’s apartment I figured out who was screaming. In a wave of panic I hopped out of bed, searching for a pair of shorts and shoes to slide on. I grabbed my keys and a kitchen knife before I rushed up the stairs.

Pounding on his door with an open palm, I slipped the handle of the knife behind my back in the waistband of my shorts. When no one answered I hit the door even harder, needing any kind of answer. Did Hydra find him and take him? Was he fighting a group of their agents now? Was Bucky already dead?

Just as my hand came down on the wood again the door whipped open. Bucky’s eyes, gray and haunted, met mine before checking the hallway behind me. As he shifted his focus back to me, I heard what sounded like a metal clashing against the ground and his flesh arm signaled for me to come inside. The second his defensive posture wavered, I threw myself at him. Hands gripping his face, I inspected every inch of his flesh I could see in the tiny amount of light that leaked through his windows.

“Are you okay?” I whispered, feeling his warm fingers rest against my shoulder. He nodded, only half of his face visible from the light. “Did someone find you?”

The graveness of his features shifted to surprise as he answered, “No.” Letting out a deep breath, I took a step back, letting relief flood my limbs. “What would you do if I had been found?”

I could have laughed at that question. Obviously I wasn’t a weapons trained super soldier, but I’d taken enough self-defense classes to help a little. Pulling the knife from my shorts, I waved it in the light for him to see it glint before I dropped it on the floor behind me, “I would have fought for you.”

A small yet proud smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he refused to enjoy my confession. “I’m fine, it was just a bad dream. You can go back to your apartment.”

“A dream had you screaming like that?” I moved to him, resting my hands on his shoulders. “That must have been a different kind of nightmare.”

“It was.” He took another step away from me, trying to keep distance between us. As he stepped through another crack of light I caught that he was only wearing a white t-shirt and boxers. I’d never seen his metal arm higher than just above his wrist, but it shined in the light and I reached for it. “Don’t,” he warned, pulling away from me.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” I asked, keeping my distance as a chill crept down my spine. I crossed my arms, trying to hold onto a shred of warmth.

“Nothing, I just think you should go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, you just woke up screaming.” I stared him down, needing him to react, to just say something. “And I’m not moving until you tell me why you’re acting like this.”

He shifted in the light, his clenched jaw and metal arm becoming visible. “Don’t make me move you,” he warned, his voice was nearly a growl.

“I’d like to see you try, babe,” I snapped back, his metal hand tightened into a fist at the pet name. I stood still, watching as his feet spread apart, his body preparing for an attack, except I wasn’t going to make the first move and we both knew that.

He moved quickly and light on his feet, but I anticipated his actions. His right hand reached out for my shoulder and I swatted it away while extending my other hand out to keep him back. With an open palm, I pressed against his chest gently and watched as his face changed for only a second, shifting to a pained expression at my touch. His metal arm stayed down, fist clenched, and we both knew he wouldn’t raise it to me. The hand I’d swatted away pushed against my elbow before it pressed against my back, pulling me to him. I placed both my hands against him, attempting to create distance between us. Being this close wouldn’t allow me to think clearly. His arm tightened, as if he was going to lift me off the ground, but I dug my heel into his foot, throwing off his balance. Pushing against him hard, I forced him to tumble to the ground. He grunted as he fell, but his grip never loosened around me and I yelped out “shit” as I crashed with him.

He scrambled to pin me but he still refused to use his metal arm, so I took my advantage and used my legs to pin him. My feet hooked around his knees, my hips holding down his torso, and yanking at his flesh hand quickly, I moved it above his head. He tried to shift under me but I continued to force all my weight against his lower half, fully aware that the majority of his strength was kept in his upper body. Yet he couldn’t flip me over if he couldn’t move his hips.

But I also knew that even his wiggling to get out from under me was half-assed. If he’d intended to do damage he would have flipped me over his head using both arms or incapacitated me with a metal hand wrapped around my throat. “Bucky, tell me what’s wrong,” I begged, hovering close to his face.

He screwed his eyes shut, refusing to let me see him break. “(Y/N),” he sighed shakily.

“Bucky please,” I gave up pinning him and instead moved my hands to his face.

“It’s me,” he whispered as his breath hit my face, hot and uneven. He opened his eyes as his jaw set in a hardline. “I’m what’s wrong.” His hand gripped my hip, pushing me off of him, before he stood up swiftly and turned his back to me.

I staggered to my feet, trying to understand what he meant. He rested his hands against the counter, his shoulders hunching. “They, they put all this shit in my head. They made me a tool, a killing machine and it’s still in me.” He turned to face me, a hand knotted in his hair. “It’s all still here, and I can’t get rid of it. It doesn’t matter that I know who I am again, the asset is still me.”

“I don’t care about that,” I spoke as I moved towards him, taking his face in my hands, shifting his head so that he would look at me. “That’s not who you are now, that’s what you were forced to be then.”

“I killed you,” he whispered, his gaze holding mine, tears pooling in his eyes. “That’s why I was screaming, I killed you in my dream. And if somehow I lose control, if I become that thing again, I can’t bear the thought of hurting you.”

I stood on my toes and gripped his chin so he’d look at me as I spoke. “You won’t hurt me because that’s not you anymore. What you were doesn’t matter to me, only who you are now. That’s the person I love.” 

The words slipped out before I could fully comprehend what I was saying, but once they hung in the air between us, I knew I meant every word. His eyes went wide and lips fell open, causing nerves to rise from my gut. I pulled my hands from him, “I’m sorry, that was too soon. I-, I shouldn’t have said that-.”

This time he cut me off, his flesh hand grabbing my elbow and pulling me back to him. My eyes met his and for the first time that night, the Bucky who’d cuddled with me three nights ago came through. “I-, I think I love you too.” His hand cradled my cheek, and as I smiled at him he pulled me closer.

He kissed me softly and slowly, as though he was trying to savor the moment. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. He took his mouth from mine too quickly, “This doesn’t change the fact that I’m still a partially brainwashed assassin.”

“No it doesn’t, but you’re not going to hurt me, babe.” Nudging his nose with my own, I kept my hands together behind his head, keeping him close to me.

“But I could kill you if something happened,” his voice grew louder, his fear continuing to claw at him.

“I’d be more than willing to go that way,” I joked, trailing my lips against his jaw softly, trying to soothe him. Instead it only made him more worried.

“Don’t say that.”

“Bucky,” I whispered, taking one of my hands from his neck to hold his face to mine. “You can worry all you want, but I’m not going to.” He opened his mouth, about to complain again but I didn’t let him get a word in. “Please just shut up and kiss me.”

He hesitated for only second before he kissed me again. Unlike his earlier efforts to be tender and move slowly, his mouth worked hungrily against mine. Tracing the edge of my bottom lip with his tongue, I moaned into his. His hand slid to my hip, grasping me against him. I knotted a hand into his loose hair, tugging on it carefully as I pushed my own tongue past his lips. His response was to dig his fingers into my flesh, inadvertently pushing the hem of my shirt up and sending tingles throughout my entire body.

Slowly maneuvering me so that we were closer to his bed, I felt his metal shoulder shift under my elbow, and his cold hand ghosted over my lower back. He wouldn’t touch me with it, but I was well past fearing any part of him. I ran my fingers down his spine before grasping his metal wrist in my hand. He pulled away from my mouth and before he could object I reassured him, “I’m not afraid of this. You’re in control now.” I pressed his hand against my skin. “You can touch me, use this to your advantage,” I whispered near his ear. I tugged on his earlobe with my teeth before kissing the skin directly below it. I shifted, speaking against the side of his mouth, “You’re not gonna break me.”

His lips met mine clumsily, kissing only my top lip before moving to my bottom one. His scruff scratched my skin as his lips pressed against my cheek and then my jaw. The metal arm wrapped around my body, moving lower with every brush of his lips down my neck. His arm settled just below my ass, fingers gripping my thigh. Lips and beard ghosted my collarbone and I let out a breathy whimper as his teeth sunk into my skin.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed, his arm lifting me off the ground. His flesh hand held my chest against him, and I widened my hips, allowing his torso to push between my legs. As I clenched my legs around him, hooking my ankles together to keep myself in place, his metal hand left my body. He took a few steps, moving us closer to his bed, and bracing myself on his shoulders I hoisted myself higher against him. His flesh fingers slipped under the back of my shirt as his metal arm stretched out past my body. Our mouths reconnected as our bodies began to tilt, and I gasped as I realized we were falling. Not a second later we stopped moving, a metallic thud sounding next to my head.

Lowering us against his mattress, I grinned up at him, turning my head to see he’d used his arm to catch our weight. “See, that was good.” He returned my smile, holding my face with his warm fingers, while his cool ones flattened against my thigh.

Pressing his hips against mine I pulled his mouth down, taking his sharp gasp from my lips as I dug my nails into his back. My fingers slipped down his shirt and I bunched up the material, needing less clothing between us. He separated our mouths to help me yank his shirt over his head, and as he threw it to the floor, I outlined the planes of his chest with my fingers. He always felt so firm and warm under his clothes, but without his usual layers, his skin burned against mine setting the sparks already running through my body on fire.

Metal fingertips massaged my hip as his flesh hand inched beneath my shirt, skimming my side and brushing against my bralette. His tongue pushed past my lips and I tightened my legs around him. Smiling against his lips, I rolled him onto his back. I tugged my tank top over my head and tossed it to the side before I traced the outline of his abs with my nails. Accidentally tickling him forced a giggle from his lips, bouncing me slightly as his stomach moved.

The way the light illuminated his grin set a bittersweet pang off in my heart, reminding me this was my last week in Bucharest. He was so beautiful, so sweet and gentle, so lonely and cautious. He’d been a prisoner for more of his life than not. Beaten, experimented on, and forced to commit murder against his will, yet he was still kind hearted. I cupped his cheek in my hand, thumb brushing his lips as he stared up at me with adoration. The moment felt perfect, and I knew this was the Bucky I’d always keep with me.

His metal hand rubbed against my thigh as his flesh hand ran over my side. “You’re so soft,” he whispered, giving me a gentle squeeze with his hands. If we hadn’t discussed it, I was sure he would have taken his hands off me in fear.

“And you’re not,” I answered as I sunk my fingers into his bicep and his pecs. “I think that’s a good thing.”

Leaning up to my mouth to kiss me, he agreed, “It’s a great thing.” And as his lips pulled me down to him, his hands moved my hips against his, creating friction between our already heated limbs. He groaned into my mouth, sending a chill of excitement up my spine. As much as I loved sweet and careful Bucky, I was more than ready to meet aroused and needy Bucky. After grinding a figure eight against his already hard bulge, I trailed my lips to his scruff, his neck, and finally his chest. I nipped at his skin as I ran a knuckle under the waistband of his boxers. An excited gasp left his lips, only encouraging me to move further south. As I kissed and licked his stomach, I started tugging his underwear down.

His flesh hand knotted in my hair as his metal one grasped at my hand. He guided my face back up to his and my hand away from his cock. My brows furrowed as he kissed me softly. “Do you want to do this, babe?” I asked as I kept my face close to his. Nodding against my cheek, his beard scratching at my skin, felt like an answer to me but he kept me away from his lower body.

“Yes, badly,” he breathed, nudging my nose with his own. “But I think the part of me who needs you right now is the James from before the war and the impulses of the asset. And they’re not in charge anymore, I am.” He spoke against my cheek, “My body desperately wants this, but my heart’s telling me to wait. I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“Okay,” I nodded, moving both my hands to his chest. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to.”

His hand reached for mine, holding it to his mouth as he kissed my palm, “Thank you.” I inched my body away from his and then swung my leg away from him, allowing me to lay at his side. He kissed me gently again, as if I’d shatter any second and he’d wake up from a dream. I kissed him back, slowly and softly, hoping he could feel how happy I was to just be with him. His fingers found my hips and he rolled me onto my side so my back was against his chest and he could hold me. I helped him close the distance, but felt his hard on press against my ass.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you out here?” I rested my hand on his hip, giving it a squeeze so he’d understand what I meant.

He chuckled into my shoulder, “Doll, you don’t need to worry about it. This is not the first awkward erection I’ve had, and it’ll go away.” I nodded, feeling his forehead rest against neck as his right arm hooked around my waist. Yet, the more I tried to relax, the less I was able to ignore it.

“Roll over,” I instructed, letting a deep sigh out.

“What?”

“Just roll over.” After a moment of hesitation, he did as I asked. I slipped an arm under his pillow and another around his torso. I pressed a kiss on his neck, and then his shoulder where his scar tissue remained from his accident and his prosthetic. “See, this works.”

His metal hand rested over my hand on his waist, “Yeah, it does.”

As his body relaxed into mine and his breathing evened out, I knew he felt safe. And I felt more at home than I’d felt in months. 

It was all because of him.


	6. Don't You Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blissful morning until all hell breaks loose. The last of flashback city.

Light hit my face, flashing bright behind my eyelids and warming my skin. I rolled to my side, needing to escape the glare of the sun but found something harder than a pillow under my head. My eyelashes fluttered as my vision started working again and a soft chuckle came from above me. **  
**

Tilting my head the slightest bit I caught Bucky watching me, a pleasant smile on his lips and a loving look in his eyes. I smiled, wrapping my arm around his waist and molding my body into his side. I’d apparently been sleeping with my head against his chest because as I moved my cheek, my lips brushed against his skin. Lifting my body, I stretched to find his mouth and was grateful for his warm fingers hooking under my chin and guiding my lips the rest of the way. The kiss was soft, affectionate, and the perfect way to start my day.

“If that’s how you say good morning babe, I think I’m gonna have to spend the night more often,” I spoke against his chest, resting my head near his heart.

“I’d like that,” he smiled, metal fingers stroking my hair. I sighed onto his skin and closed my eyes, settling back into his body. His metal thumb stroked my cheek as I drifted back to sleep.

* * *

It was too soon when Bucky squeezed my arm and whispered, “We should get up doll. We can’t stay in bed all day.”

I knew he was right but I also never wanted to leave his side. Never wanted to be without his warmth, his smell, and his skin again. “Why not?”  I whined against his rib cage.

“Your stomach’s been growling for the last 10 minutes,” he chuckled. “As much as I want to stay here all day, we both need to eat something eventually.”

“Fine,” I groaned, lifting my head from his body, “What do you have to eat?” With daylight illuminating his apartment, I could see he’d been living here a while. Somehow the place was in even worse shape than my own, with cracked tiles and horribly peeling wallpaper. But the old fridge, coffee brewer, array of mismatched dishes, and bag of chips sitting on top of the fridge told me he’d done his best to make it home.

“Not a whole lot.” He rolled off the bed, leaving me to find my shirt on the ground. “Do you have anything in your apartment?” he called as he rummaged through his closet. He emerged with a black short sleeve shirt and pair of dark wash jeans on, and his arms in a red henley he was pulling over his head.

“I think I have a few eggs left over, a partial loaf of bread, and possibly some yogurt.” As I stood up, I noticed the newspapers taped over his balcony door and windows.

Perched on the edge of his loveseat, he pulled on a pair of socks and watched me try to find my shoes. “Some fresh fruit would go well with the toast or the yogurt,” he answered, a sly smirk playing on his lips. I found my shoes in the hall, accompanied by two shining objects.

“It would,” I nodded, picking up both my kitchen knife and a smaller combat knife. “You should probably put this away.” I handed him the weapon, noticing his gulp and quick turn to the counter to find its sheath.

He concealed and secured it around his ankle before pulling on his boots, and reaching for his black baseball hat. “I’ll go run to the fruit stand and get something.”

“You mean you’ll get plums?” I tilted my head and smiled at him, holding the blade of my kitchen knife downward.

“Maybe,” he blushed. He tugged his gloves on and jacket before meeting me at his door. “But they’re my favorite.” Pausing directly in front of me, his hands held my face, covered thumbs caressing my cheeks and I wished I could melt under his touch. I snaked a hand out to his hip, pulling him closer to me.

“I know they are,” I whispered, my lips brushing his cheek. He turned his head, finding my lips with his own and our mouths worked together in a moment of fervent passion. The bill of his hat pushed back from his face as I rose onto my toes.

Pulling back from my mouth he grinned, “They’re almost as sweet as you.” I couldn’t help the tug at my heart or the flush on my cheeks. I peppered his face with small kisses, only stopping when I reached his smiling lips. A covered hand slid down to my hip, gripping me against him and deepening the kiss. I welcomed him in, savoring the way his scruff brushed against my lips and his tongue teased mine. Our lips separated for us to catch our breath, and he exhaled, “I swear I’ll only be gone for 20 minutes tops.” I kissed him again but his hand tilted my jaw, pulling us apart. “I’ll meet you in your apartment,” he moaned, wetting his lips as his heavy lidded eyes betrayed his desire. His clothed metal fingers slipped under the hem of my shirt teasingly and he raised his brows in suggestion, “We can continue… this.”

Pausing for a second, I bit my lip. This was all so new to us, and normally I’d never want to be this attached to someone, but Bucky felt so comfortable, so right to me. I reasoned with myself that this was just the honeymoon phase and it’d be more unhealthy if we were too codependent. As reluctant as I was to let him go, I knew I could wait 20 minutes for him. “Okay,” I nodded, prompting him to kiss me one last time before opening the front door.

He tugged his hat back down, planting a peck on my forehead. “I’ll rush back, I promise.”

* * *

Three loud knocks echoed from my front door. I pulled the skillet of eggs from the stove, carefully dumping them onto plates. One more loud bang came from the door, and this one sounded harder than knuckles meeting wood. Hurrying across my apartment, I unlocked the deadbolt quickly and yanked the door open.

Regret was etched all over Bucky’s features as I grabbed his elbow and guided him into the hallway. I closed the door and turned to find him frozen directly behind me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, but my words quieting in my throat as his haunted eyes met mine.

“I just, I really wanted this to work,” he sighed, gaze dropping to the floor. “I did.”

Shaking my head, I pulled the bag of plums from his hand and took them to the kitchen. “What do you mean?” I was afraid of what I’d see if I looked at his face.

“Us. This.” He spoke clearly, his voice carrying across the room.

I turned on my heel, anger and heat suddenly rising in my chest. “Considering what you said to me last night and 20 minutes ago, if this is a break up speech it seems pretty insincere.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I watched him searching for his next words. This obviously was not planned on his part.

“I-, I thought I could be happy. I was wrong.”

“Drop the bullshit,” I groaned, grasping his jaw in my hand and forcing him to look at me. “You’ve been happy for the last two weeks with me. I’ve been nothing but honest with you Bucky, and you didn’t lie to me about your past. Don’t you dare start now.”

His steely gaze held mine for only a moment before softening. I let go of his face as he muttered, “Well shit.” Moving quickly past me, he went to one of my windows. He checked the streets near our building and then the sky. “I’m not trying to break up with you, but I’m trying to tell you this isn’t going to end well.”

“What’s going on?”

He moved from one window to the next. “They’re coming for me,” he answered, turning to look at me and then back out to the street. “I don’t know what suddenly changed but there was a picture of me on a newspaper about the bombing in Vienna.”

“Do you think it’s Hydra?” I asked, closing the distance between us. My hands slipped over his shoulders and across his chest, leaning my body onto his back.

“No, it’s the UN I think, or some government agency.” He continued to stare out the window, his fingers tapping against his leg. “And since I’m now a domestic terrorist according to the paper, they won’t care whether they take me in alive or not.”

Slipping around him, I placed myself between the window and his body. “Don’t say that, we’ll figure a way out of this. I’ll come forward and say you were with me last-.”

Shaking his head, he cut me off, “No. There’s no chance in hell that I’m letting you expose yourself for me. They’ll scrutinize you, interrogate you, maybe even arrest you.” I sighed against him, mentally searching for another way to help him. “Honestly, I’m thinking about surrendering.”

Holding a breath in his lungs longer than usual, I rubbed his forearms, trying to soothe him. “But you didn’t do it.”

His gaze turned hard, “How do you know that? You didn’t even ask.”

Hands slipping to his face, I brought his forehead to mine, “Because I know you. That’s not you anymore.”

“But it could be.”

“But even if it could be you, physically. That’s not you, it’s not what you want or what’s in here.” I poked his chest reminding him that his heart was not a killers.

“I’m so sorry this is happening.” His hard edges crumbled and his hands guided my hips closer to his. “I didn’t want you to have to go through this.”

“It’s not your fault.” I rubbed his jaw with my thumbs, brushing his beard and hoping he’d relax into me.

“Yes it is,” he groaned, gripping my wrists in his fingers and moving me away from the window.  “Because if they come after me, they’ll come after you too eventually.”

“Buck-,” I started to pull him away from the glass but he turned his back to me.

“It might not be the government, but Hydra will want to get rid of loose ends. Make sure no one knows their secrets.”

“If they come, then we’ll handle this together.”

He turned to me, a hand running through his hair as he shook his head, “You don’t get it. I’ll probably be dead or locked up. We can’t handle any of that together.”

Knotting my hands behind his back to make sure he couldn’t remove me, I looked up at his stormy eyes, “You sound like you’ve already given up.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” he hunched his body into mine, hands settling on my hips again. “Just being here, holding you, puts you in so much danger. And I don’t care what happens to me, they can lock me up or kill me, but I can’t stomach the thought of someone hurting you. But I guess I’ve already dragged you into all this.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything. I walked into this of my own free will.” His eyes lowered to my lips, focusing on how my mouth formed the words. “I love you Bucky, and I’d do all of this over again if it meant I got to be with you.”

He moved quickly, lips crashing against mine before I could even grasp what was happening. Instinct taking over, I gripped his biceps, anchoring my body with his as I kissed him back. Our mouths moved together desperately, wanting to take in everything we could of each other, needing to stretch what felt like our last moment together.

The walls of my apartment vibrated gently, notifying us of a helicopter approaching. His lips stilled under mine, jaw going slack as he opened his mouth against my own. Taking in a deep breath just as I exhaled, he held me close to him, sharing air for the last time. I wished the world could slow or stop. I needed more than just this and he deserved more than two weeks of cautious happiness.

“I love you, (Y/N), and I’m sorry,” he spoke into my cheek before taking his hands from me.

He moved quickly to my hallway, shoulders broadening and spine straightening in preparation for what was coming. “Make it out alive please,” I called to him, feeling heat and tears building behind my eyes.

As his fingers wrapped around my doorknob he hesitated, turning back to look at me. His eyes were apologetic and his brows furrowed. “Stay close to the ground and behind something. Don’t come out until everything sounds normal again.” My heart ached but I nodded at him, gulping down my nerves.

Watching him walk out of my life for the last time felt like losing a piece of me I didn’t know I had. But I didn’t have much time to contemplate my feelings as the sound of glass breaking and bullets hitting metal and plaster reached my ears minutes later. I followed his orders, curling into a ball on the floor of my kitchen, covered by my island and appliances on all sides as more bangs flew through the air. I covered my ears and rocked myself, silently praying he’d survive somehow.

I didn’t realize I was crying until all the fighting stopped, and I knew I was alone.


	7. Tell Me How

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the present, still in a bar in Brooklyn. Sorry, this one might hurt guys.

My mind was far away when Bucky unlocked his limbs from my own and guided my hips back to my stool. As he sat facing me he slid a covered hand past my knee, noticing how my gaze stayed on him but my focus was elsewhere. Giving my thigh a small squeeze, he asked, “Are you okay?”

Closing my eyes and forcing a thin smile across my lips, I nodded. He turned to the counter, having noticed how the bartender had been watching me out of the corner of his eye. He waved him over and as the bartender realized what was happening, his eyes went wide and snapped back to me. Peeling Bucky’s hand off my leg, I gripped it between my fingers and nodded at the green eyed man.

He stood in front of us hesitantly, hands barely touching the edge of the counter. I broke the awkward silence with a polite smile, “I’ll have another, and he’ll have…”

I glanced at Bucky, “I’ll uh, have a Sam Adams.” The bartender looked back at me, eyes still cautious but I nodded to encourage him and he left us to fill our orders.

“Sam Adams?” I asked, turning back to the man I’d been missing for the last two years.

“Yeah, Steve’s introduced me to more American beers,” he shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” I chuckled as he interlocked his fingers with mine. The bartender returned with our drinks, and I polished off the one I’d been nursing before sliding the empty glass to him. He took it, still analyzing the situation in front of him, but he left instead of making me shoo him off.

Bucky used his left hand to take a drink before turning back to me, “Is he into you or something?”

I shook my head, nearly laughing at both his suggestion and how anxious I felt. “No, he just noticed how nervous I was and wanted to make sure I was okay.”

Bucky took another gulp of his beer before setting the bottle back on the counter, and turning his whole body back to me. “Did you get my flowers and note?” he asked, his tone eager as he smiled.

“Yes, Steve got them to me a month after I made it back to the US.” Which had been over two months since Bucky had disappeared from my life.

I knew he’d meant it as a romantic gesture, he always found an excuse to bring me flowers in Bucharest, but it just felt bittersweet. Sure, I was overjoyed and grateful to learn that he was alive, but a simple note that read,  _It’s not safe for either of us right now, but hopefully one day it will be. I love you. –– JBB_  only made my heart hurt worse. Two months without him already felt like someone was slowly squeezing my heart between their hands, tightening their hold every time I thought of him, and making it harder for me to think or breathe.

“I’m sorry, that was the only thing I could do,” he apologized, his cold clothed fingers brushing my cheek and sending a chill up my spine.

“It’s okay, I understand,” I nodded, leaning my head into his palm. “But that was over two years ago, and it’s been radio silence since then.”

“They put me back on ice for a while.” His hand dropped back into his lap as his shoulders hunched slightly. “It was better that way, for everyone.”

“I figured that’s what happened,” feeling the frown tug at my lips and I lifted my glass to my lips to cover it.

“I don’t know if you heard, but the asset was reactivated Berlin.” He said the words as if they were fact, but his eyes dropped from mine and the words warped into a confession of guilt. “I could have killed everyone there.”

My self control disappeared as I reached for both of his hands, enveloping them in my own. “But you didn’t, Steve made sure you didn’t.”

“How do you know that?” his eyes shot back to mine as suspicion furrowed his brows.

“Uh, Sam may have alluded to what happened in detail. Steve only gave me the tiniest amount of information.” I shrugged, searching for the right words. “But Steve would do whatever it takes to protect you, and that even meant protecting you from yourself.”

Steve cared for Bucky so much that he would do anything in his power to make sure Bucky could live with himself, and over the last two years that had become very, very apparent to me. Sam making comments about the extremes Steve was willing to go to just to save Bucky only confirmed what I already knew.

Bucky’s eyes analyzed my expression, trying to understand what I was thinking just from watching me. “Did Steve say that to you?”

“No, no. As much time as I’ve spent with him, which is not that much, he wouldn’t bring up anything that happened in Europe. I had to ask about what I’d heard from the news or Sam, and he wouldn’t expand on anything just nod or shake his head.” Bucky sighed, relaxing back into his seat. “But you know that none of that matters to me. I’m just happy you’re alive and still you.”

His eye twinkled as he stared at me with a smirk on his lips. “I don’t know how I ended up with you in my life, but I’m happy you’re here.”

I bit my lip at his words. He’d gone through hell for over 70 years and then just so happened to slip past me in a stairwell. I’d been the one to pursue him in Bucharest. The Bucky that emerged from the ice appeared to have more confidence in himself, and his fingers swirled circles onto my knee as his eyelids drooped to my lips. After staring at my mouth for longer than might have been publically acceptable, he pushed his head back so he could look in my eyes, “So tell me what’s happened in the last two years for you.”

I told him about the new job I had on the East coast, spending more time with my friends, and that I was volunteering at an animal shelter. He alternated between pouting his lips and smiling with them as his eyes carefully watched me.

“It’s all been pretty civilian-ish. Nothing too exciting.” I’d purposely left out all the sleepless nights spent with every feeling I had about him clashing inside me at once, and the bad days where I just felt empty and motivationless.

His fingers slipped through my hair as he moved it in the light, “This is new, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I dyed it a couple months ago. Yours is kinda new too. Or is it vintage?”

He laughed at my joke and dropped his fingers from me so he could rub his chin and cheek. “Yeah, it makes me more recognizable to the public, but it also distances me from the asset. I’m still trying to get used to it.”

I finished my drink, placing it back on the counter and catching it as the pooled condensation from the glass caused it to slip towards Bucky. “Oh that reminds me,” he started as he straightened in his seat with curiosity. “Wanda told me to tell you hi, and Natasha wanted to make sure you were still doing okay.”

I smiled to myself, eyes dropping to his feet. “Tell the girls I said hi, and that I’m still doing alright.”

“How do you know them?” his tone was more pointed than I expected.

“Uh, well I trained with Nat for a while,” I shrugged, angling my body towards the bar a bit more.

His brows shot up, “Wait, what? Why would you need to train?”

I felt the heat rising in my chest but was grateful no one had mentioned the assault I’d experienced the year before. It wasn’t Hydra related so I’d hoped Bucky wouldn’t have to find out about it, but clearly that was a mistake. “Sam set me up with a panic button after you were, uh, frozen. It was meant to be an emergency sort of thing if I was being followed.”

His eyes stayed wide and focused on my face, “And?”

“And well, I was at a concert one night by myself and a guy in the crowd tried to get a little handsy, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. I bent his finger back and told him to get the fuck away from me. Apparently he didn’t take rejection well because he rounded up a few friends and they followed me to my car after the show.”

“Did he-.”

“No,” I shook my head. “I hit the button the second I realized I was being followed and I tried everything I could remember from my self defense classes to get them off of me. Lots of kneeing, elbowing, and going for their noses and eyes, and I landed some good hits. I think I even broke one of their noses, but I was outnumbered. Just as I got shoved down on my knees with a hand around my throat Wanda showed up. I don’t really know how she got there so fast since Sam told me they weren’t even in the US at that time, but I’m guessing she used Vision’s powers or something. She threw two of the guys clear across the alley and gave me the opening to headbutt the one restraining me and punch the dick who started all of it in the groin.”

“You headbutted someone?” he asked incredulously, but his eyes were still filled with the same concern, which was his best attempt at masking anger.

“Hey, he had me restrained by my wrists and neck on my knees. He was bent over to try to keep me down and the second his grip loosened on my neck I just threw my head back. It left a nasty bump but it was worth it.”

“So Natasha taught you more self defense even though she was on the radar while everyone else was off?”

“Wanda stayed with me for a day or so until she could safely leave, and apparently Steve sent Nat an encrypted message about meeting me at a certain place and time to discuss training. We hit it off and I worked with her on and off for a month or two.”

“So you just became more of a badass when I was gone?” he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“It was just an extra safety protocol. She didn’t need to know who I was to you, or you to me, just that I needed to know how to defend myself. She never asked any other questions.”

“Is there anything else I missed that no one bothered to tell me about?”

I sighed, hearing the anger wavering in his voice, “Bucky, the only reason no one mentioned it is because I didn’t want you to worry about it. We made it away safely and I’m okay. That’s what matters.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it happened and I wasn’t there for you,” his anger had turned inward, and his hands clenched into fists.

I held his fists in my hands, rubbing my thumbs over his gloved ones. “You did what you thought was best for everyone, and I, nor anyone else can blame you for that.” His jaw relaxed and his fingers unlocked under mine. “Plus, Steve didn’t just let those guys get away. I think they got exposed for some other shitty things and all had varying prison sentences.”

“If I had just known, or been told, I could have done some-.”

“Those guys aren’t worth your anger now, and I know you’ve been busy these last two months. You being back and feeling in control is more important.”

His eyes softened as his fingers brushed over my own. “How did you know I’ve been out of the ice for 2 months?”

“I-, I kinda made Steve promise to tell me the second something changed with you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you sooner.”

“Don’t be,” I said, but internally I wanted to know why. Why had he made me wait to hear from him for another 2 months?

“So, where do we go from here?” I asked, keeping my eyes locked on our hands.

His left hand hooked under my chin, forcing my focus to his face. His eyes were filled with warmth and love, reminding me of our night in Bucharest together and how he’d stared at me then. “I wanna be with you, I want to make up for lost time.”

My heart nearly skipped a beat and I tried not to hold my breath, “Would you try to fit back into civilian life or would you stay with the Avengers like you have been?”

“I’ve been thinking about it, and I have these abilities, this training. I don’t know if I could get a job in the real world, if could fit back in.” His hand moved to my shoulder, massaging my muscles, which I hadn’t realized were tensed. “I think it’s best I use what I have and try to do some good in the world. Especially after all the bad I’ve done in the last 70 years. I have a lot to make up for.”

“So you’d stay in New York with the rest of the team?” As I said the words, I wished I could take them back. I had him again and I didn’t want to lose him, but being an Avenger was a dangerous full time job and I’d be living over 8 hours away from him still.

“Yea, I think it’ll be good for me there.” And as happy as I was that he could be with people who knew him and would give him a fresh start, everything I’d planned before he walked in tonight came rushing back.

My throat felt dry, and the rawness that remained after all the whisky I’d drank became too uncomfortable. “If you’re there, then you’re still going to be pretty far from me.”

His hand stilled on my shoulder as his eyes narrowed, “I’ll see you all the time. They have planes that’ll get me between quickly, and the rest of the time we can talk on the phone.”

I shook my head and felt his hands leave my body. “You’ll be training when you’re not on missions, and there’s more shit happening out there than you think. People are going to need your help, and you won’t be able to just pick a phone up at any time.”

“How are you so sure?”

“How do you think I got in touch with Sam and Steve the last two years? Do you think I was just calling them whenever I needed to talk?” anger boiled inside me, but not at Bucky. I was angry with myself that I thought this would be any different than the last two years had been. “No, I’d send texts to their burner cells and I would wait days to get answers. They needed to stay off the grid to keep safe and that won’t suddenly change. There’s people who want to target you all, and they’ll do whatever they can to draw you out.”

“But we’re all back on the grid again.”

“Sure, I could call a secure line to Nat’s office at headquarters, but when she wasn’t there I wouldn’t get an answer until she got back. It won’t be any different.”

“I’ll make sure it’ll be different,” both of his hands spread across my thighs, attempting to soothe me but it did nothing.

“You say that, but I know better. And on top of the lack of communication you’ll be out there fighting people. I’ll have to live everyday hoping you don’t get killed!” I knew my voice grew louder as I said the words, panic already pulling at my heart. His eyes widened and I tried my best to lower my voice, “The last two years were bad enough not hearing from you, but at least I had Steve’s reassurances you that you were completely safe.”

“Doll, nothing’s gonna happen to m-.”

“You can’t promise me that.” A harshness had entered my voice and his jaw set into a line as he removed his hands from me. “You can’t, and I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep waiting around for you.”

“Wh-, what are you saying?”

“This might be selfish of me, an-, and I hate this, but I need to think about myself.”

“(Y/N)…,” Bucky whispered, his eyes wide with fear.

“I want you to do what’s right for you, but I need to do the same for me.” How I forced the words from my lips I had no clue, but they spilled out, tearing me apart even more with every new word. “To do what’s right for me, you need to commit to something. This is gonna be hard, for both of us, but-, but I need either all of you, or nothing.”

“I can’t-, I want to be with you. I don’t want to live without you,” his eyes brimmed with tears as he spoke. “But I can’t ignore what I did. And I don’t think I can live with myself if I don’t try to fix part of that.”

I swallowed and dropped my eyes to my shaking hands. Flattening them against my legs I took in a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions in control. “Then this is it Bucky.”

“No,” he whimpered, sounding so powerless that I nearly hugged him.

Instead I forced myself off my barstool and reached for my wallet. “I wish you nothing but the best. A long life of happiness.” I placed my money on the counter for the drinks and turned back to him, “I really hope you’ll be okay with this someday.”

“I won’t.” The words felt like venom but I knew he was only upset. One day he’d understand why I had to do this. I pivoted on my heel, starting to move around his body but his hand stopped me, grabbing my wrist to keep me there. “No.”

I sighed, still trying to stop myself from crying. I looked into his eyes and ran a hand over his hair before settling it on his cheek. My heart felt like it went still as I leaned in, giving him a soft, passionate kiss on his lips. His grip loosened on my wrist and he held my face with his other hand. The burn behind my eyes and in my throat didn’t go away, but my lips worked against his and I felt like I was home again, if only for a second.

Pulling back from his mouth, I pressed our foreheads together and brushed a tear from his cheek. “Goodbye Bucky,” I whispered, staring into his light blue eyes for one last time. My hand dropped from his face and I straightened my spine, forcing my legs to carry me away from him. As I reached the door I felt a prick of reassurance. It was so small, but it was something I could try to cling to through the storm swirling inside me. I pushed the door open and walked out of the bar, walking away from Bucky Barnes for the first and last time.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath from the bar, still in present. Third person POV for a Avengers HQ, first person POV for reader.  
> This one will hurt too.

The door down the hall slammed so hard it shook the walls, interrupting Sam Wilson from his binge-session of watching The Get Down. He moved to his own door, checking to see who it came from. The shadows moving under the crack of Bucky’s door, accompanied by smothered sobs, told Sam all he needed to know. He thought of going to him, telling him everything would be okay, eventually, but he thought it wiser to leave him alone for now.

Closing his own door, he fished his phone off his night stand. Scrolling through his recent messages until he found her contact name, Plum Girl, as he’d so affectionately taken to calling her after she’d ranted to him about how much seeing plums at the grocery store made her want to cry tears of happiness and longing. They were Bucky’s favorite fruit, they both knew that by now, and although they’d become good friends over the last couple years he’d always viewed her through the lense that she was Bucky’s heart. That she was a piece of his redemption.

Sam couldn’t trust Bucky before cryostasis, but hearing how she talked about him for those years softened his feelings towards Bucky. He still only trusted him when he had to, being kicked off a helicarrier and nearly killed by the guy multiple times didn’t make for an easy friendship, but (Y/N) had helped Sam see him in a different light.

Typing slowly and then erasing it, he tried to figure out what to say to the girl who just left the love of her life. He settled for all that would come to his mind.

Sam: You did it.

Plum Girl: It needed to be done.

Sam: Guess I gotta change your name in my phone now.

A couple hours later there was a series of loud knocks on Sam’s door. He rolled out of bed with an angry groan and yanked his door open, “What?”

The overwhelming scent of alcohol wafted from Bucky, forcing Sam to pull back from the doorway. “I want her number,” he demanded, pushing himself into Sam’s room. “I know you have it, so just make this easy and give it to me.”

“Make this easy? You’re drunk Bucky, leave her alone.”

Cool metal snaked around Sam’s throat, slamming his entire body against the wall of his room. “I just need to talk to her. I don’t-, don’t understand why s-she did that, and I need her to explain.”

Sam braced himself against the wall before kicking Bucky away from him. Bucky stumbled, trying to regain his balance before swinging at Sam. Sam dunked before grabbing Bucky around the waist and shoving him hard against the hallway wall across from his door.

“She broke up with you, don’t bother her.”

“She had no right to s-Sam, I love her and she loves me,” Bucky slurred, moving toward Sam. Steve and Wanda’s doors opened as they investigated what was happening.

“Man, where do you get off thinking that?” Sam snapped, pushing Bucky against the wall again as his anger took over. “(Y/N) waited for you, for two years! Every night was hell for her. Scott said she’d wake up in the middle of the night crying, and that was just when she was able to get any sleep. She tried to act like nothing was wrong, but these were the worst years of her life. Two years might not seem like anything to you super soldiers, but to us normal humans she was in agony for a long time.”

“Sam-,” Steve warned, appearing at their side and trying to separate the men.

“How would Scott know?” Bucky growled at them.

This time Sam turned to Steve, forcing him to answer. They exchanged head tilts and looks before Steve scoffed and gave in. “After she was assaulted last year, we had him keep an eye on her. He ended up staying on her couch for a few weeks and she knew about it. Nothing happened, he was just an additional safety precaution.”

“You g-guys didn’t bother to tell me about her getting attacked, or that s-she was training with Natasha,” Bucky spat out as he turned his anger on Steve. He shoved him hard, causing Steve to hit the opposite wall. “And you didn’t t-tell me you were monitoring her, having someone stay with her. I should have known about all this.”

“You were frozen, asshole,” Sam jabbed as he clenched his fists. “What were we supposed to do? Thaw you out so you could go be with her and risk all of us being found? We were fugitives! Scott only got to stay with her because he could dodge security getting into the US. Wanda met her because she was the only one who could get there fast enough to protect her. Steve and I spent months trying to figure out ways to get into the country, just so we could check on her a few times a year to then have to figure out how to get back out.”

Bucky was at a loss for words, trying to think of something to say back, but when he failed to find anything, he started swinging.

Wanda reached a hand out, freezing him where he stood, his fist just mere inches from Steve’s face. “I won’t let you move until you stop fighting us,” she warned, allowing Steve to move away from Bucky’s stilled assault.

They let him stay like that for a moment, watching his breathing calm. “Are you done being angry?” Steve asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bucky nodded, and Wanda dropped her hand. Catching himself against the wall, Bucky let out a deep breath. “I just want her fucking number.”

“Well, you’re not getting it,” Sam smirked as he tilted his head.

“Fine,” Bucky growled, pushing himself away from the wall. He moved down the hallway quickly, getting away from his friends and closer to more alcohol. He bumped into Steve, pushing past him and Wanda to get through. “I’ll find her myself.”

I’d gotten the text from Sam at 2 am, warning, He left the compound, said he’d try to find you. We didn’t tell him where you’re staying but you know he’s resourceful. A minute later he added, and drunk. I hadn’t gotten any sleep, but the thought of hearing a heartbroken Bucky speak forced me even more awake.

It took him almost two hours to find me, and as he reached my door he knocked once softly and whispered my name. I stayed still, hoping he wouldn’t even hear me breathing. He knocked and called my name three more times, each time getting louder than the last. When he gave up on me answering, he slid his back down my door and I heard him unscrew the lid on a bottle. There was the swish of liquid moving as the bottle was turned upside down. He was still drinking.

“I hope this is actually your room,” he mused, speaking in his normal, low voice. “I had to do a lot of flirting with the girl at the front desk to get this number, but I don’t think she lied to me.”

I shifted upward in my bed, pulling my knees into my chest. That girl was a goner. I knew how Bucky flirted and I was sure drunk him had pulled out all the stops.

“Natasha told me where you were staying this afternoon, before…everything.” He took another drink. “She thought I’d be ending my night with you, here, in a different way.”

Nat didn’t have the same context to our relationship that Steve or Sam did. And Sam full and well knew what Bucky was walking into, even warning me that it might be a little harsh to do it so quickly. I hadn’t brought it up to Steve, but I was sure he had his suspicions.

“I just, I don’t get it. Was it really that bad without me for two years?” He paused, “Sam said you woke up crying when you did sleep, and then you didn’t sleep the rest of the time.” I nodded to myself, knowing he couldn’t see me. “I guess that’s the bad part of being frozen all the time, I never have a concept of time.”

The bottle swished again and I heard a small “ahhh” come from him as he gulped. I willed myself to stay where I was, knotting my hands together and rocking myself gently.

“I’m sorry about it all. About not being there, about not talking to you, about leaving you alone. I didn’t think about how you-, you’d feel about it. I just did what I thought was best for everyone.” His head thudded against my door as he rested his body against it. “I just, I don’t understand why you don’t want to make this work. I’m back. I’m here. We can be together now.”

I bit my lip to stop myself from answering.

“I-, I spent the last two months getting de-programmed and, and they kept telling me to focus on something positive that would come from all this. It was you. I was thinking about you, and us, being together. Being happy without fear of the asset showing up. Not worrying about hurting you.”

The bottle’s contents sloshed again.

“I guess, I shouldn’t have worried so much about the asset. I hurt you without that shit being involved.”

I laid down on my side, keeping myself tucked in the fetal position. Urging myself not to cry, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to picture how sad he must look outside my door.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I-, I just guess I still have a lot to work on. Having relationships and being a person is kinda new all over again. I’m not that monster anymore, so I guess I need to learn how to be a human again.”

Rocking back and forth, I fought every instinct to go to him.

“I miss you though, I mean, fuck, you’re 20 feet from me and it feels like you’re on the other side of the planet. I miss your laugh, and your smile, and your lips. You teasing me about plums,” he chuckled, the swish of liquor distracting him for only a moment before he continued in a softer tone, “and your smell, how soft you are.”

The glass bottle clanked against his teeth and I felt tears running down my cheeks. Raising a hand to my mouth, I made sure no sounds came from me.

“I miss your faith in me the most I think. You believed in me at a time when I didn’t think anyone would again. You trusted me when I wasn’t even sure I could trust myself.”

A yawn left his mouth and I tried to quit the hot tears from pouring from my eyes, but they wouldn’t stop.

“I guess this is how you felt for the last two years. I get it now, it’s really shitty. But we can be together, even if it’s not how you want it to be. We could still be happy, (Y/N).”

He threw the remains of the bottle back and the empty bottle thumped against the hallway carpet.

“I love you so much, I really do. More than anyone in my entire long, screwed up life. And I know you still love me. We could be so in love, together, finally.”

I heard his body slide down the wall and him roll onto his back. His fingers stroked the door as I heard him choke back a sob.

“I want you in my life so bad. You’re all I want from this fucked up life. I deserve you after all this. I deserve to be happy with you.”

Another yawn came through my door as his knuckles traced the design of the wood.

“But I can’t forget about all I did. I know it wasn’t me, but I still did all those things. I-, I can’t just pretend like that’s okay. I have to work to fix that. I have to help people now. It’s the right thing to do. It’s what I need to do in order to heal.”

He rolled onto his side, his jeans scratching the carpet.

“But I’m not okay with all or nothing. I can’t do that. I need something else, something more. I don’t know who I’ll be without you now.” He paused, breathing becoming more shallow. “I may be heartless and cold again. I may not care anymore.”

I pulled a pillow between my legs and buried my face into it, smothering every feeling and word I wanted to say in it.

“That’s a lie. I’m always gonna care. Maybe not about other things, but always about you. I’m not okay with any of this, (Y/N). I’m not. But it won’t stop me from loving you with every part of me.”

His breathing became louder as he relaxed, letting sleep take over. Just as he drifted off to unconsciousness he whispered, “I love you. I’m never gonna stop loving you, (Y/N). But I guess that’s all I can do.”

I stayed locked in my position, waiting for any other words to leave his mouth, but nothing came out but soft snores. I wished I could go to the door and peek at him sleeping peacefully, but I knew I’d fold. And if I wanted to be able to live my life without the fear and loneliness that depended on Bucky, I needed to leave him. This emotional hell wasn’t good for me. He was a handsome super soldier, with a good heart and kind soul. He’d find someone else to be happy with. And it hurt that it wouldn’t be me, but the pain softened knowing that he would be happy again, eventually. Whether that was through being a hero or falling in love. Bucky being happy was all I really wanted for him.

After another couple minutes I texted Sam that he’d fallen asleep and that other hotel goers would be waking up soon. 

He answered, Wanda and I will get him. I’m sorry about all of this.

I put my phone down and rolled onto my back, wiping the leftover tears from my face. I sighed, willing sleep to take over as I relaxed my muscles. A few minutes later I whispered to myself, and to Bucky, “I’m sorry about all this too.”


End file.
